When We Get Back
by Jamie552
Summary: Charlotte "Charlie" Scofield has been an adopted member of the Stamper family since she was sixteen years old. When Harry's crew is gathered together and asked to attempt the impossible, she gets swept up in a world she never thought she'd be part of with people she never thought she'd meet. Specifically, a blue-eyed Colonel.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or any of the characters in it-the only thing I own is Charlie. It's simply one of my favorite movies and this plot bunny has been kickin' around for months. Just playing in the sandbox. Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

* * *

There was definitely something to be said about the sunrises and sunsets in the South China Sea.

It was always one _hell_ of a sight.

As she stared out over the railing, the cool ocean mist blowing across her face, she took in the colors of the early morning. Bright oranges, yellows, and reds…stretching as far as the eye could see. It was peaceful and she relished the near-complete silence, broken only by the occasional crashing of the waves against the platform's flow lines down below.

It was the calm before the storm.

Looking down at her black digital dive watch—which she didn't really need since she didn't dive anymore but kept anyway—she could see that it wouldn't be long until the rest of the crew woke up. The rag-tag collection of men from all different walks of life, swarming the decks and clamoring up and down the metal stairs…shouting at each other and making inappropriate jokes that she couldn't help but laugh at. It was her routine, _their_ routine, and it was one that she loved.

She was always one of the first ones awake, the big boss man being the only one who occasionally rose before she did, but it was a rare luxury to have time to herself while they were on the rig. The regular crew for that particular Stamper Oil rig was a family in all the ways that mattered but that didn't change the fact that the quarters were cramped, space was limited, and being one of two women on board had its challenges.

But if there was one thing Charlotte Scofield had gotten _very_ good at over the years, it was rising to those challenges.

She'd been an adopted member of the Stamper family for going on ten years, having met Harry and Grace just a few days before her sixteenth birthday. Her father, who had been an old high school friend of Harry's back in the day, had died after a long and drawn out battle with colon cancer. Unbeknownst to Charlotte and Harry, he'd stated in his will that he wanted custody of his only daughter to be passed on to a rugged oil driller from Texas; someone he knew well and trusted would keep her out of trouble. Andrew Scofield's reasons were a mystery to all of them at the time but Harry had accepted almost immediately, barely even batting an eye when the resentful and angry teenager had been dumped on his doorstep with a ratty old duffel bag and a bad attitude.

Her relationship with her father before his death had been a turbulent one. Her mother had gone out to buy milk one day and had never come back, leaving the two of them alone in a small two-bedroom shack on the outskirts of Baltimore. Anger and feelings of abandonment had consumed both of them, and seeing as how her father was an ex-military man who had absolutely no idea how to relate to a young daughter, they'd ended up living separate lives even though they were both living in the same house.

It'd taken less than a week after arriving in Texas for her to break down in Harry's arms and less than three years after that for her to attend the University of Houston, eventually graduating with a degree in Geology and a minor in Geophysics.

She'd wanted nothing more than to join his crew and despite his insistence that she go on to something more _worthy_ of her—like _teaching_ , for instance—he'd relented, officially hiring her only a couple of days after graduation.

She had worked hard over the first couple of years to gain the trust and respect of the men on Harry's crew. They were all experienced and tough, almost each and every one of them brilliant in their own right. Many had doctorates (even _double_ doctorates), degrees in the sciences, business, and finance; they were astoundingly intelligent even though they had dirt and oil caked under their nails and the smell of metal in their clothes. As soon as she had been able to prove to them that she could do the job and dish out the witticisms as well as they could, she was in—part of the team, part of the family.

And she'd lived that life for those ten years, having just celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday in their company.

It was then that she heard a heavy pair of feet clanging against the metal grating and she sent a smile to her new companion. "You're up early."

"Not as early as you," The boss man himself let out a breath, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck gently in greeting before resting his arms on the railing. "Anything goin' on?"

She nodded out towards the horizon. "Just that boat coming in. Greenpeace again, I think."

He squinted in the sunlight and shook his head, "Make the rounds, let's get these guys movin'. It's gonna be a long day."

Charlotte pushed herself from the railing and headed towards the nearest set of stairs, taking them two at a time in her heavy steel-toes. The living quarters, for the most part, were all isolated in one part of the structure and she made her way from room to room quickly, banging on doors and shouting out greetings to those that were already awake.

The door of the last room on the right burst open and a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Oscar appeared in the frame, pulling on a well-worn set of work gloves. She couldn't help but smile at him. "Good morning, Oscar."

He sent her a thousand-watt smile. "You see the sunrise this morning?"

"I never miss it."

His smile only got bigger.

"Where's AJ?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "Don't know. Haven't seen him yet."

Before she could head in the direction of AJ's room, a tired and disheveled looking Chick appeared beside her, yawning and rubbing his stubbled face. "Good morning, Charlie. Coffee?"

She nodded, "Yeah, in the main break room. We're outta cream, though."

"Don't care." He placed a quick kiss on her cheek, saying, "I'd chew on the grounds if I had to, " before turning and walking away.

Another ritual, equivalent to a family conversation around the breakfast table.

Once everyone was awake and had their two or three cups of coffee, it took less than forty-five minutes to get the core machinery up and running.

One of the things that made them such a successful crew was the fact that each and every person on the rig had a specific job, or a specific set of responsibilities…and each person carried those things out without needing instruction or handholding.

The sounds of the rig waking up were familiar.

There was one _particular_ sound, however, that stood out to her as she sat at her desk rifling through piles of paperwork.

Shotgun fire.

When the first shot rang out just a few minutes before nine o'clock, Charlotte had to sit there for a moment, _sure_ that she had misheard or imagined it.

When the _second_ shot rang out, accompanied by the somewhat hysterical sound of Grace screaming, she shot up from her chair an ran out to the railing outside her office door, using her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sunshine as she scanned the metal catwalks below.

It took less than a second for her to spot a very determined looking Harry walking amongst the equipment with a shotgun held firmly in his hands and Chick walking beside him, ever the voice of reason.

Then Grace appeared on one of the upper catwalks, wearing what appeared to be nothing but a large green jacket—obviously AJ's.

 _Wait…_

 _AJ?_

Charlotte's eyes widened.

"Harry! Put the gun down, you're acting insane!"

"Now honey, go get some clothes on and get outta the way—"

"You can't control my life!"

The rest of the conversation was drowned out when Charlotte took off running, pulling her long honey-colored hair back into a ponytail as she went. She dodged passed a large vent that was expelling warm steam and hopped over yet another railing, eventually ending up standing beside Chick and Rockhound; who were both watching the ensuing chaos with a mixed look of humor and panic on their faces.

AJ's voice rang out, drawing her eyes up again. "Harry, stop! It was funny for a minute, it's not funny anymore!"

She jumped when the next shot rang out, the sound echoing loudly in her ears.

As Harry cocked the gun again, Rockhound held a hand out in an effort to placate. "Harry, this is illegal, man."

And without missing a beat, Harry said, "I'm temporarily insane, Rock, it's alright."

Charlotte couldn't help but stand still as Harry moved away, following the sounds of AJ's frantic screaming. Chick moved with him, always just a few steps behind.

Rockhound stayed by her side, and as if to show how flustered he was, his ill-fitting hard hat slid down over his eyes. He quickly pushed it back up. "This is why I never had kids."

With a large wrench resting on his shoulder, Bear appeared between them and snorted. "Yeah, _that's_ the reason."

Rockhound shot the larger man a mildly dirty look and motioned over his shoulder, "I'm gonna head up to the nest. Keep an eye out for the clients."

She nodded, watching him leave. "Thanks, Rock." Bear moved up to stand right beside her, resting his free hand on his belt. "Bear, what's goin' on around here?"

The big man shrugged, "Hormones."

She sent him a nervous smile and after patting his large shoulder in affection, Charlotte took off again—finding the gun-wielding maniac just in time to hear the final shot ricochet off a large metal pipe. He finally found his mark, if the tiny bloody hole in AJ's left leg was anything to go by.

Grace shoved her way through the small group of curious on-lookers and went right to AJ's side, glaring at her father as he said, "Bullet never even got close, it was just a ricochet."

The distant sound of rotors made Charlie sigh and it was made worse when Rockhound suddenly yelled down at them, "Hey, pucker up!" The yellow and white chopper soared overhead, obviously heading towards the helipad at the far side of the rig. "We got clients incoming!"

Letting out a commanding breath, Charlotte stepped forward and looked to Grace. "I'll take care of his leg, I have a med-kit in my office. _Please_ go and get dressed, you're the only one here who speaks Chinese."

Sending one last hellish glare to her father, Grace kissed AJ on the cheek and stormed off, pulling the jacket tighter around herself as she went. Charlotte then looked to Harry. "And you, _Capone_ , let's not scare the nice people, ok? Can you put that gun away?"

A wave of tension left her when Harry finally lowered the gun. The usually un-flappable Chick obviously felt the same way because he placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder, blowing out a large puff of air.

 _Crisis semi-averted._

As gently as possible, she grabbed hold of AJ's right arm and pulled him along with her, nodding in the direction of her office. "Come on, AJ, blood isn't a good look."

He hopped along beside her and the moment they were out of Harry's earshot AJ nearly growled, leaning most of his weight on her. "Friggin' insane."

Charlotte shook her head at him, pulling open her office door and all but pushing him inside. "Well what did you expect?" She helped him sit down in the closest chair and moved towards a set of cupboards, pulling the one on the far left open. The rarely-used first-aid kid sat on the upper shelf and she resisted the urge to blow the dust off of it when she pulled it down. "It's Gracie. How did you think he would react?"

"I was supposed to expect a shotgun?"

"When it comes to Harry, expect _everything_." She knelt down in front of him and opened the kit, setting it down carefully on the floor beside her. "He _is_ a father, after all."

AJ shook his head, letting out a loud hiss when she pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against his leg. "The guy is a maniac, Charlie."

"AJ, you just don't _think_. You know what he's like, he's unstable on a good day. You should've sat him down and told him months ago."

"Grace didn't want to, she said he'd freak out." He motioned somewhat flamboyantly to his wound. "Guess she was right."

"He might've reacted differently if you'd talked to him, man to man."

He snorted.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "And you know I love you, but come on, your history with women hasn't been all that inspiring over the last couple years. When was the last time you were in a meaningful relationship?"

"I've had plenty of meaningful relationships!"

"Sharing the worm from a tequila bottle is _not_ meaningful!" She pulled the cotton ball from his leg quickly, making him hiss again.

As she rummaged through the kit looking for a band-aid, AJ said, "You're one to talk. When was the last time _you_ went on a date?"

"The stupidity of this morning has nothing to do with me, it's all _you_." She felt her face heating up slightly and he must've noticed she was uncomfortable because his face softened slightly. Choosing to ignore his change in demeanor, she swallowed hard and said, "And anyway, I've got too much going on."

"That's the only reason?"

"Well, _that_ , and who the hell am I gonna date out here?"

"Rockhound thinks you're cute."

She didn't even hesitate before flicking at his leg, earning yet another hiss and a very loud, " _Ouch!"_

* * *

The rumbling in the floor was a sure sign of trouble and Charlotte made her way quickly to the control panel on the main level, throwing on her hardhat and squeezing in beside Harry, who was shouting directions at every man within earshot. "Send another pipe on down! Right now! Another full pipe!"

One of the men threw Harry his own hardhat and as he put he on, he looked at her and said, "It's a gas pocket."

Trying to force down the feeling of panic that was rising in her chest, she tried to focus on the gauges, ignoring the sounds of the guys yelling and the number two drill shrieking close by.

Not even realizing that AJ had followed her onto the platform, she wasn't expecting it when he suddenly yelled, "I told you! Am I lucky or am I just a genius?"

Harry yelled back, "I shut it down for a reason, you jackass! The relief valve's fried open!"

The thick smell of oil filled the air as Bear's voice rang out, "Shut off the number two valve!"

The gauges were spiking off their meters and when the loud warning alarm started going off, nearly bursting her ear-drums, it took only seconds for the enormous geyser of thick black sludge to force its way up the pipe and shoot skyward, raining down a heavy layer of black tar on everyone close enough.

Someone, she didn't know who, grabbed her arm in a tight grip and pulled her away from the panel, all but throwing her down one of the emergency slides.

When she made it to the bottom she started to slide across the oil-slicked floor, her boots struggling to find a grip. Oscar appeared beside her—clothing, skin, hair…every inch of him covered in oil—and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and then tight against his chest as they took shelter under the nearest ledge.

Large metal pipes were literally _raining_ down on them, clanking loudly as they hit the concrete and metal floor.

There was a sudden blast of heat as the bulk of the gas escaped through the geyser and the last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the image of Harry and AJ taking a running leap from the level above, their arms flailing.

The relentless flow of sound gradually faded away and it was only when she heard Harry yell, "Everybody all right?!" that she opened her eyes again.

The cheering, hooting, and hollering started up only moments after that – _we struck oil, baby!_ – and Oscar slowly relaxed his hold on her, looking down at her and unable to hold in a smile. "You ok?"

She nodded against him, running a hand through her oil-soaked hair.

The clients who had arrived earlier that morning were laughing almost hysterically, following Grace like little fledglings as she led them through the chaos—over the fallen pipes and around the flames, which members of the crew were still battling with large hoses. They were giving thumbs up to Harry, who was leaning against a metal valve and looking completely exhausted.

Still a little dazed, but able to hear the approaching rotors in the distance, Charlotte pulled herself away from Oscar—sending him a silent _thank you_ —and made her way to the railing.

The approaching black hawk helicopter stood out amongst the clouds and she felt herself frowning, wondering just what in the hell they had to deal with next.

Glancing over her shoulder to where Harry was still standing with AJ, it was obvious that he too had seen the approaching chopper. He spoke a few quiet words to AJ before turning away and making his way down the nearest set of stairs, shedding his now ruined outer shirt as he went. A small group followed in his wake and Charlotte was among them, finding a space in between Chick and Bear on the outer edge of the helipad.

"Who's Harry Stamper!?"

And the last thing she heard before both Stampers were loaded into the chopper was Harry yelling at Chick to get the crew paid and off the rig.

 **END**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or any of the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

The journey home after a long stretch on the rig was always an exhausting one.

Hong Kong to Taipei.

Taipei to Houston.

Over seventeen hours, not including layovers.

Then tack on a thirty-minute drive, depending on traffic, to get from the airport to her little bungalow on Cullen Boulevard on the border of the University campus.

She couldn't help but cringe at how stale the air was inside the house when she let herself in. She wearily dropped her bags just inside the front door and made her way back to the kitchen, opening the blinds and pulling open the sliding glass doors. The breeze brought a smile to her face and she went about her business, sorting through the mail and checking the countless messages on her machine.

It never failed. Whenever she was home, her phone never rang…but the second she went away, everyone and their brother wanted to talk to her.

 _BEEP_

 _Charlotte, it's Danny. Any way you can cover the 101 seminar for me on Thursday? I got Astros tickets. Lemme know by tonight._

 _BEEP_

 _Miss Scofield, this is Dean Travers. Just checking to make sure you received the invitation for the Geology Alumni dinner on the 25_ _th_ _? As soon as you're able, please call my office to reserve your seat. We'd love to have you._

 _BEEP_

She didn't even pay attention to the remaining messages, instead heading back to the front entryway, grabbing her bags, and fumbling her way into the laundry room.

She hoped _Tide_ could get the oil stains out…

* * *

 _Johnson Space Center_

 _Houston, TX_

* * *

"We're a little short on time here. Will you help us?"

Standing at the open bay door, his hands resting on his hips, Harry let out a long breath.

He could feel Grace's eyes on him, waiting to see what his answer would be.

Did _he_ even know what his answer would be?

Since founding Stamper Oil and taking on the responsibility of running the drilling operations, he'd travelled all over the world—the United States, Canada, Alaska, Asia—there wasn't a speck of land anywhere on the planet that Harry Stamper hadn't flown over, set foot on, or drilled in to. And despite the fact that he was an intelligent man, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't a _sophisticated_ man. He wasn't the type of man that ended up on the news or was the subject of a ticker tape parade. He didn't like attention, he didn't like the spotlight, he didn't like fuss. He lived life anonymously. He was an oil driller, plain and simple.

But he was also a father. A friend. A son. A citizen. A _human being._

Did that _obligate_ him to accept?

He knew that he could work his ass off over the coming days and whip those stuff-shirts into shape, teach them to use the rig well enough for them to get _the job done_. But did the world deserve better?

Did the world deserve _someone_ better?

"All they gotta do is drill?"

"That's it."

"No space-walkin'? No crazy astronaut stuff?" He looked over his shoulder, seeing Grace approaching him in his peripheral.

Truman shook his head. "Just drill."

"How many men were you plannin' on takin' up there?"

Truman stuffed his hands into his pockets and said, "We're setting up two shuttles, two teams—"

"If I do this, I'm gonna wanna take my own men."

There was no hesitation. "You got it. So you're saying you'll help us."

Despite the sudden pressure that built in his chest at the sheer size of the situation and the commitment he'd just made, Harry lightly nodded his head. "Yes, sir." He heard Truman mutter a quiet and emotion-filled thank you but only had eyes for Grace, watching as she walked up to him with her own eyes wide, asking for his reasoning…his explanation. And in a truthful voice, he said, "I just don't trust anybody else to do it, that's all."

And as he knew she would, she accepted that.

Her heavy silence was all the support he needed.

* * *

 _Jayotis Kerleen Bear. Probably the only black man on a big dog in Kadoka, South Dakota._

 _Uh…Max?_

 _You got a weight limit on the shuttle?_

 _You know I want Rockhound._

 _We call him Hound because, well, um…he's horny. You might wanna start with every bar in New Orleans._

 _Oscar Choi. Spacy but absolutely brilliant geologist. He owns a horse ranch outside of El Paso._

 _Mr. Chick Chapple…at the craps table…Caesars Palace…Las Vegas, Nevada._

 _Charlotte 'Charlie' Scofield. Another brilliant geologist and trained medic. Sweetbriar Café, University of Houston._

Grace sat herself in the only remaining chair, her arms folded on the table in front of her. "Who's gonna run the other rig?" She asked pointedly, blinking her tired eyes. "How about Benny? He's good."

Speaking in a sigh, Harry said, "The only one who knows how to run it as well as I do is AJ."

"I thought you said you couldn't trust him?"

A long pause. "I thought you said I could."

* * *

To say that she was unimpressed would be an enormous understatement.

The federal agents that had come barreling into the Sweetbriar shortly before four o'clock had caused enough of a ruckus that Gillian, the older woman who owned the place, nearly burst into tears when they led Charlotte out the door.

She had asked repeatedly what the charges were only to have the two serious-faced agents inform her that she in fact _wasn't_ under arrest, but that they had a _national security matter_.

Whatever the hell _that_ meant.

The large black SUV weaved it's way in and out of afternoon rush hour traffic, the red and blue strobes in the windshield all but forcing cars out of the way. She closely paid attention to her surroundings as they went, ready to start screaming if they headed towards Houston's city limits…

…but they didn't.

They took the I-45 South and within thirty minutes they were pulling up outside the NASA Johnson Space Center, along with about seven or eight similar looking vehicles, all parked in the front drive, one right after the other.

She didn't even hesitate when she reached for the door handle, letting out a breath as she slid from the leather seat, her sneakers landing soundlessly on the concrete. Familiar faces and voices surrounded her—Rockhound climbed out of the car in front of hers, and beyond him, she could see Bear, Max, and Chick, all laughing and horsing around…the air jovial at their sudden reunion.

A set of hands came down suddenly on her shoulders and she turned around, coming face to face with a grinning but confused looking Oscar. As any gentlemanly cowboy would, he tipped his hat to her before saying, "You too?"

She nodded, falling into step beside him as the group started walking. "They wouldn't even let me pay for my coffee."

"I'm sure Gillian will understand."

"Yeah, right. Knowing her, she probably thinks I'm being water-boarded somewhere."

He chuckled, his laughter mixing in with everyone else's as their eyes fell on Harry, Grace, and three rather serious looking men standing at the main entrance of the building—one in a uniform, the other two in dark suits.

"What's up, Harry? Did NASA find oil on Uranus, man?"

* * *

The large video screen switched off and Charlotte felt as if her stomach had dropped down to her toes.

It couldn't be true, couldn't be _real._

The eight of them sat silently around the shiny mahogany conference table with varying degrees of horror on their faces. The cheerful atmosphere that had surrounded them as they'd arrived had evaporated completely with the news of why they had actually been called there.

It was the end of the world. Six billion people were depending on _them_?

Max, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table from her, let his head fall down to the surface with a dull _thud._

"None of you have to go."

Harry's somber voice broke through and she blinked quickly, trying to clear the haze from her mind.

"We can all just sit here on Earth, wait for this big rock to crash into it…kill everything and everybody we know." He looked at each of them in turn. "The United States Government just asked us to save the world. Anybody wanna say no?"

There was barely a second's worth of silence before Chick spoke up, "Twenty years. Haven't turned you down once, not about to start now." He and Harry locked eyes. "I'm there."

Freddy said, "Guess I can't let you go up there alone."

Bear said, "I'm with ya."

"This is...this is historic." Oscar's eyes widened as he sat there beside her, playing absentmindedly with a small toy-sized replica of the space shuttle that he'd found sitting on the table. "Guys, this is like _deep-blue_ hero stuff. Of _course_ , I'm in."

"While I don't share _his_ enthusiasm," Rockhound made a face, somewhere between horrified and ill, "You know me: beam me up, Scotty."

Harry's eyes traveled down to where Max was sitting; the big man was still silent, his head still resting down on the surface of the table. "You alright, Max?"

"I don't...I don't-" Max raised his head, his face pale and sweaty. "Whatever you think."

Charlotte felt Harry's eyes on her before she even looked up and she couldn't help but swallow hard, her mind racing at what felt like a thousand miles an hour.

She was afraid. How could she _not_ be?

She wasn't being asked to do a calculation or help secure a new line. She was being asked to undergo some of the most grueling training the world had ever seen...travel to _space_ , land on an _asteroid_ , and in the end, hopefully save the world. _Six billion people_. It was too big, too much.

What could she even hope to contribute?

"Charlie?"

Harry's voice was unexpected and she startled, looking over at him with what she knew were tears in her eyes.

The man standing there before her had taken her in, protected her, fed her, kept her off the streets, put her through school; he had done everything for her and had given her a life she loved. He had never once asked her for anything, had never once expected anything in return.

She would do this with him, with _all_ of them.

Swallowing hard again, she slowly nodded her head.

There was a very subtle flash of relief in his eyes and he nodded back, his arms crossed over his chest.

He then looked to AJ, who up until that moment had barely moved and hadn't said a word. "What about you?"

"I'm in."

There was a feeling of heaviness in the room as Harry said, "Alright, then. We go."

"I don't mean to be the materialistic weasel of this group, but-" All eyes flew to Rockhound...while Rockhound's eyes went to Harry. "-you think we'll get hazard pay outta this?"

* * *

"If you're trying to make me feel better about this scenario, give it up."

Truman shrugged, looking down at the personal work-ups he held in his hands. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of encouraged. This guy Chick here was an Air Force Commando for six years-"

"We got robbery, assault, arrest, _resisting_ arrest. We got a collection agent for the mob. _Two_ of these guys have done serious time."

"Look, they're the best at what they do-"

"So am I, and I'm not so optimistic. We spend 250 billion dollars a year on defense, and here we are-" Kimsy motioned up to the balcony, where Harry's crew was standing. "The fate of the planet is in the hands of a bunch of _retards_ I wouldn't trust with a potato gun."

Harry approached the three men slowly, recognizing immediately that their conversation was a serious one. As soon as Kimsy saw him, however, they all turned to face him—Truman looking hopeful, the other two just looking annoyed. Truman asked, "So what's the verdict?"

"They'll do it. They've made a few requests, though."

"Such as?"

Harry started rifling through the small stack of handwritten notes he'd collected before they'd left the boardroom, scanning through them quickly. "Just a few things here. Nothin' really big, just uh-" he settled on Oscar's paper. "Well, as an example: Oscar here has got some outstanding parking tickets...wants them wiped off his record."

Oscar piped up, "Fifty-six tickets in seven states-"

Harry raised a silencing hand, "I'll tell them, Oscar, I got it." He kept on scanning through the papers. "Uh...Noonan's got two women friends that he'd like to see made American citizens, no questions asked. _Max_ would like you to bring back eight track tapes-" Harry made a face and shook his head, "Not sure if that's gonna work, but let's see what else." He settled on Charlotte's paper, which he was surprised to see only had two small requests on it. He read it through twice, just to make sure. "Charlie would like the mortgage on her house here in Houston paid off, student loans as well. Clean slate for her." He almost smiled at her sheer practicality, but managed to hold it in. "Chick wants...a full week's Emperor's Package at Caesars Palace." A short pause and he looked up, meeting Truman's eyes. "Hey, you guys wouldn't be able to tell us who _actually_ killed Kennedy, would you?" The three deadpanned expressions provided enough of an answer on that one and Harry glanced over his shoulder at no one in particular and shook his head, as if to say, ' _hey, I gave it a shot'_. He continued on. "Uh, _Bear_ would like to stay at the...White _Horse-_ "

"White _House_. White House."

"White House, yeah. He'd like to stay in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House for the summer. Stuff like that."

Truman tried to appear as nonchalant as possible in the face of such absurdity. "Sure, I think we can...take care of... _some_ of that."

Rockhound leaned forward, calling down, "Harry!"

Harry raised a hand in response and then took a deep breath, looking at each man in turn. "Yeah, one more thing. Uhh...none of them wanna...pay taxes again." And just for added effect, he added, "Ever."

The three men deadpanned again.

All Harry could do was shrug a shoulder.

* * *

As semi-captive guests of both NASA and the United States Air Force, they were assigned rooms in the dormitories usually reserved for astronauts and were provided toiletries and a couple weeks' worth of clothing, all NASA issue.

Once they had _literally_ signed on the dotted line, Truman escorted them to the medical center where they met a severe looking man—short, stout, with black thick-rimmed glasses—who forcefully handed each of them a standard hospital gown. The guys were gracious enough to stand guard while she changed out of her clothes, doing her best to hold the flap at the back of the gown closed as she padded across the cold floor in her sock feet.

The ward looked like any other hospital ward—individual exam beds all lined up in a row, with the ability to be curtained off if the doctor found it necessary.

Each member of the crew was directed to their own bed and Charlotte hoisted herself up onto hers, letting out a breath as Chick and Harry took the beds on either side of her.

When Truman had told them that they were in for a full medical work up, he hadn't been kidding.

Nurses and doctors made the rounds from man to man, checking everything from reflexes, blood pressure, and breathing sounds…to looking in their noses, their ears, and flashing lights in their eyes.

A nurse was in the middle of disconnecting an extremely tight blood pressure cuff from Charlotte's right arm when Oscar strolled over, examining a nearby crash cart with childlike interest. She watched as he picked up the paddles and started rubbing them together, "We're losin' him, we're losin' him. Clear!" and he pressed them against his chest— _kaboom!—_ grinning from ear to ear.

"Careful, Oz." She said, her eyebrows raised. "That could be a bad omen."

Her eyes were pulled from the blonde, however, when a hunched over Freddy came shuffling towards them with a hand pressed firmly against his stomach. There was a red rubber bag hanging from his IV stand. Charlotte couldn't help but cringe as Chick said, "Hey Freddy. You alright?"

"Does this look ok to you?" He hunched over even more. "Does this look _ok_?!"

The nurse responsible for Freddy's misery appeared from a doorway at the end of the hall and looked over towards them, her eyes settling on Chick. "Mr. Chapple? You're next."

Chick's eyes widened. "Oh gee, lady…I just came here to drill."

"Oh…so did I." There was a wicked smile on her face as she held up the rather threatening looking anal probe.

Just the sight of it made Charlotte's behind tense right up. She'd been that horrible woman's first victim when they had first arrived in the clinic, not realizing until it was too late what she was being called for. She'd put two and two together when she'd spotted the large jar of Vaseline on the exam table and the probe attached to long rubber tube in the nurse's hand.

Chick had been waiting for her to come out of the exam room, helping her walk around for the next half an hour as the rubber bag filled up.

Bear had teased her that he'd heard her shrieking during the exam. Charlotte hadn't doubted it for one second, saying, "You get some big thing shoved up _your_ butt, see how well you take it."

When he himself had exited the room an hour or so later, he hadn't said one word.

 _Serves him right_ , she'd thought.

One of the doctors, a man with short brown hair and a name-tag that read _Stokes,_ approached her and sat himself down on a tiny stool on wheels. He held a clipboard in his hands and nodded up at her before flipping up the first page so he could read what was underneath. "Miss Scofield, I'm Dr. Stokes. I'm just going to go over some results with you, ok?"

She nodded, her sock feet swinging back and forth as she sat at the end of the bed.

"First, the good news: your blood pressure is perfect, no congestion in your chest, hormone and blood sugar levels are all normal. Not a surprise, given how young you are." He lowered the clipboard and looked up at her. "I know it's awkward, but I have to ask: how are your menstrual cycles? Normal?"

Feeling her face heat up in embarrassment, and thankful that AJ—who was now sitting on the bed beside her—said nothing, she nodded. "As normal as they can be, I guess."

Stokes made a note on her chart and moved on quickly. "Eye-sight is twenty-twenty, no hint of hearing loss…again, not a surprise. You _are_ , however, a little dehydrated. We're going to set you up with a saline drip, try to bring those levels back up."

She swallowed hard as a nurse appeared beside her, a small needle visible in her hands. "Is that necessary? I'm not really a…needle person and I've been stuck half a dozen times today already—"

AJ looked over at her and sent her a calming smile. "One more, Charlie. Give 'em hell."

Turning to look at him as the nurse prepared the needle she tried to smile back. "Don't I always?"

It was at that moment that Bear climbed up on top of his bed and pulled off his gown, showing the entire room—comprised of both friends and strangers—his near skin-tight pair of leopard print underwear. "Pork rind this!" He flexed his huge arms. "Yeah!"

Charlotte burst out laughing, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth when the big man pulled his underwear down and exposed one cheek.

Rockhound was doing his part by commandeering one of the bright exam lamps and turning it upwards, shining it towards Bear like it was a spotlight on a stage.

She was so distracted by the sight that she didn't even feel the nurse put the needle into the top of her left hand.

* * *

As if the physicals weren't bad enough, once they were dressed again in their own clothes they were moved to a different part of the facility where they were told they'd be meeting with NASA's chief psychiatrist for evaluation.

The whole adventure started in a large waiting room—white walls, white plastic chairs, no magazines, and dirty looks shot their way if they talked to each other as they waited.

As the hours passed by, a nurse would walk in and call each person by name. That person would disappear behind a large set of double doors and wouldn't be seen again.

When they finally called _her_ name—" _Charlotte Scofield? You're next, please."_ —the only other people remaining, Chick and Rockhound, stared up at her as if she was going to the electric chair.

The room she finally ended up in was probably the most terrifying and uncomfortable room she'd ever been in. It was a small room, no bigger than ten by twelve…but it was made to feel even smaller because of the large spikes that jutted out from every inch of every wall. And right in the middle of that room was a square metal table with two metal chairs set across from each other.

The nurse told her to have a seat, and she did as she was told, not even feeling comfortable enough to rest her arms on the cool surface of the table. Instead she folded her arms over her stomach, unable to stop her leg from bouncing up and down as she waited for the psychiatrist.

He finally showed up a couple of minutes later and sat himself down across from her, setting a beige-colored folder down in front of him. Without saying a word to her, he flipped open the folder and adjusted his glasses, pushing them to rest further up his nose.

As she sat there waiting for him to acknowledge her, she couldn't help but wonder how many other people had been in the same position she was in at that moment. How many Air Force pilots or astronauts had been taken to that _hellacious_ room to have their minds probed by a sweaty lookin' dude in glasses.

She understood the need for it, the evaluations, especially considering who they were and why they were there. But she couldn't help but wish that she could get up and leave right then, never setting her eyes on this doctor again.

Yes, she _hated_ needles…she _hated_ being asked questions about her _cycle_ by a doctor she had never met before and who, for all she knew, hadn't even hit puberty yet…she _hated_ wearing hospital gowns and being probed.

But there was something different about having her _mind_ probed.

When it came to the government, there was only one place that truly offered privacy and secrets—a person's _mind._ Her thoughts were personal, her fears were her own…no one else's. And the fact that the man sitting across from her was trained and expected to get at a person's deepest thoughts and worst fears immediately set her teeth on edge.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence he looked up at her, sending her a truly _clinical_ smile. "Ms. Charlotte Scofield. I'm Dr. Zeretsky." He had a slight accent and try as she might, she couldn't place it. "Don't be nervous, please, I just wanted to speak with you…to try and get a sense of who you are."

She consciously made a decision to keep her bouncing leg still and nodded, her arms still folded over her stomach. "Ok, what did you wanna know?"

"Let's start with something simple. Where were you born?"

She couldn't help it—she nodded to the folder on the table, her name clearly visible on a multi-colored sticker across the top. "Isn't that something you know already?"

He had the sense to look slightly sheepish, "I do. But I would like to hear how _you_ tell it."

"There isn't much to tell. _'Chapter one, I am born"_. You ever read David Copperfield?"

"Charles Dickens. Did your mother marry a violent man named Mr. Murdstone as well?"

"No, my mother went grocery shopping and never came back." She looked him right in the eye. "But you already knew _that_ , too."

"And your father?"

"Ex-military. Was diagnosed with colon cancer right after my thirteenth birthday. Fought it for three years before dying in a hospital bed, hooked up to more machines than any human being ever should be." She swallowed hard and looked down to the shiny surface of the table. "Harry was more of a father to me than anyone else. You have a folder on him, too, I know."

He opened her folder, scanning over the top page. "Yes, he adopted you. Moved you into his home, put you through university—Geology and Geophysics, very impressive."

She bobbed her head. "Thank you."

"So…any romantic connections with anyone on the team?"

She snapped her head up, her green eyes widening and her mouth popping open.

 _Mind probe._

She spoke immediately, "No, not at all. It's not like that, these men are my family."

"I've been told that you're very close with… _Oscar Choi_?" He met her eyes. "There's nothing there?"

All she could do was stare at him across the table.

* * *

"Fail." A folder hit the table. "Fail." A folder hit the table. " _Depressively_ fail." The last folder hit the table with a thud.

Harry, Truman, Kimsy, the lead physician, and the team of doctors all stood in a very small, very dark corner of the clinic. The nine personnel folders were stacked up on the table, all but one with a glaring stamp across the front.

 **FAILED**.

"There was only _one_ subject who passed both the physical exams and the psychological evaluation. Her behavior, however, concerns me because no _well-balanced_ person can be through what she has—being made an orphan at sixteen years old, for example—and _not_ suffer some sort of collapse." The doctor stared up at Truman over the rim of his glasses. "One toxicology analysis revealed ketamine. That is a very powerful sedative."

In a quiet voice, Harry said, "Sedatives are used all the time, doctor."

"Well, this one's used on _horses_."

He shrugged a shoulder, "Some of these guys are pretty big—"

"It would normally take eighteen months to psychologically prepare and pre-screen viable subjects for space travel. We have seen evidence of a wide variety of territorial aggression—"

Truman interrupted loudly, "Can they _physically_ survive the trip? That's all I need to know here, ok?"

The doctor blinked. "Personally, I don't know how they survived the tests."

And before the men left the room, each and every folder was stamped with a NASA APPROVED red stamp, the doctor piling them up in his arms and leaving with a scowl on his face.

 **END**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** : I'm just playing in the sandbox. I don't own Armageddon, it's story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

When the group of them finally made their way back to their assigned dormitories that night, it was with exhausted minds, sore bodies, and somewhat defeatist attitudes.

Charlotte said her good-nights quickly, passing around a few hugs and faking a smile whenever someone faked one first.

Any doubts any of them had had about how real the situation was had been completely wiped out over the course of that day, which somehow made everything a thousand times worse. On the walk back to the dormitories, she'd wondered to herself several times if it had all been a dream; if she'd wake up in the morning in her tiny little cot on the rig, someone pounding on her door before handing her a steaming coffee in an official Stamper Oil mug.

If Oscar brought her the coffee, there would be too much sugar.

If Max brought it to her, there would be too much cream.

God, she missed the simplicity of her old life—which felt a million miles away, even though it'd only been one day.

She was surprised to find the room empty when she let herself inside, expecting to find Grace waiting there for her. The younger woman was probably off with Harry somewhere or was hiding out with AJ and Charlotte was almost relieved. She wanted to have a shower, get into bed, and cry herself to sleep without any witnesses.

She felt she'd earned that.

There was a large black NASA duffel bag sitting on what she presumed was her bed and she unzipped it in one smooth motion, rummaging around inside for something she could use as pajamas. She settled on a white t-shirt with a NASA logo in the upper left corner and a pair of black shorts. They'd even supplied undergarments, which kind of embarrassed her but she was thankful for all the same.

On the nightstand beside the bed was a small collection of personal toiletries—shampoo, soap, a toothbrush, and toothpaste—which she gathered up in her arms and carried into the tiny bathroom.

When she finally climbed into bed an hour or so later, she curled herself up in the rough blankets and willed herself to fall asleep. All she needed was a couple of hours of nothingness…a way to distance herself from everything that had happened and everything that was _going_ to happen.

And in that that moment, something her father had always said came barreling into her mind.

 _Sometimes, ignorance is the preferable state to live in._

Yeah, ain't that the truth.

* * *

The wake-up call the following morning was loud and brutal and surprisingly enough _did_ come by way of someone banging on her door.

But no familiar faces brought her coffee.

The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on the nightstand told her it was only a couple of minutes after five o'clock. Based on what she remembered from the previous day, they were due to start their first day of flight training at the nearby Ellington Air Force Base as soon as they could all gather.

Still feeling refreshed from her shower only a couple of hours before, Charlotte jumped out of bed. Grabbing yet another pair of black shorts from the bag, as well as a form-fitting black tank-top, she dressed quickly before slipping into the dark green flight suit they'd provided. There was a NASA patch on the chest and another patch with her nickname— _Charlie_ —in white cursive writing.

She was still in the process of tying her long hair back into a loose ponytail as she pushed her way out into the hallway, nearly slamming face-first into Rockhound, who was walking quickly in the opposite direction.

He stopped and smiled at her. "Morning, green eyes." She returned the smile but said nothing, tying off her hair and letting her arms fall down to her sides. "Sleep make any of this look any better?"

She shook her head, watching as the other guys all emerged from their shared rooms looking either wired or exhausted. "No, no better." She shrugged a shoulder, meeting his brown eyes. "But then, I didn't really expect it to. I was hoping it was all a dream."

"More of a nightmare."

AJ and Grace appeared beside her, the former of which smelling pleasantly of soap. "Anyone get Tylenol in their stash?"

Rockhound shook his head. "No, why? You got a headache?"

" _Screaming_ headache. Barely slept two hours."

Charlotte cringed, raising her hand and rubbing AJ's upper arm sympathetically. "If you need something, you better ask. Flight training today, remember?"

AJ let out a loud groan as Harry emerged from his room, taking a mental roll call of his crew. Once he knew everyone was up and ready to go, he let out a loud whistle and called for them all to follow him.

They did so without question, the whole group of them following along loyally behind him.

* * *

The fifteen minute ride to Ellington Air Force Base thankfully went without a hitch and when her boots hit the asphalt a little after six o'clock she took a deep breath, trying to feel as refreshed as she could.

Truman, having been the first off the bus, raised a hand to get their attention. "Everyone, over here, please!" The group fell silent, Charlotte feeling like a class on a school trip, and gave him their complete attention. Dressed in a dark suit, NASA's executive director looked like he hadn't slept a wink since they'd arrived. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the man.

"Good morning and welcome to Ellington." He motioned to the large collection of hangars and administration buildings behind him; there also appeared to be several intimidating looking jets sitting on the tarmac as well. "Since the early 1960's, NASA has used this as a base for astronaut flight proficiency training, as well as specialized aircraft training. In fact, this is where the Apollo 11 astronauts trained for their lunar landing leading up to their mission in 1969. Today, you'll be meeting both NASA and Air Force pilots who will not only be training you in flight operations…but who will also be accompanying you to the asteroid. The pilots you'll be meeting this morning are experienced, incredibly skilled, and are best suited to help prepare you for your space flight." He pointed towards the nearest and largest hangar, saying, "Follow me."

And they started walking, Truman leading them confidently towards the enormous hangar doors.

Once they crossed the threshold of the hangar, relishing the coolness of the shade, Truman directed them to a trio of metal tables that had been set up for their use. At each seat at each table was a large blue binder, stuffed with papers...a box of pens...a pad of lined paper...and what looked like a textbook of some sort, hard copy and heavy. There was also one other table that was obviously their instructor's table, which was also covered with binders and books.

Without waiting for direction on where to sit the group of drillers went about finding their own seats. Barely even registering what she was doing or paying attention to the people around her, she chose the closest chair and got herself settled. Oscar sat down on her right while Harry took the seat on her left.

Harry cleared his throat and looked over at her, leaning close before nearly whispering, "Haven't had a chance to talk to you since yesterday. How you doin'?"

She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "I don't really know." There was a flash of sympathy in his eyes and he nudged her arm gently. Lowering her voice so only Harry could hear her, she said, "How are we gonna do all this, Harry?" She let out a completely humorless chuckle. "I mean, really, how are we gonna do this? Doesn't it feel like too much to you?"

There was a short moment of silence as he contemplated his answer and she knew that when he finally did speak, he would choose his words carefully. He met her eyes again, resting his arms on the surface of the table. "Yeah, kid, it does. But like I said yesterday—would you ever be able to say no?"

Before she could answer him, their instructor walked out in front of them and came to a stop at his table. "Good morning, I'm Colonel Willie Sharp." She looked up and studied the newcomer, instantly feeling goosebumps rise up on her arms. He was about six feet tall with brown hair, and even from where she was sitting, she could see he had the most electric blue eyes she'd ever seen. He was wearing an identical green flight suit and he looked comfortable up there in front of them, as if this was something he had done countless times before.

"In addition to flying one of the X-71 teams to that rock, my job is to train you how to deal with the mental and physical rigors of working in space...so you don't freak out on the asteroid."

He looked at the people around him closely and Charlotte's breath nearly caught when those eyes finally fell on her. It was as though he was looking straight through her, as if he could hear her thoughts and read her mind. She steeled herself against the attention and stared right back at him, trying hard not to blink.

Even though she felt like she was being _studied_ in that moment, she knew that her stare wasn't as effective as his was. She was too intimidated, too _tired,_ to really react in kind. He was a Colonel in the United States Air Force, intimidating people with his eyes and with his presence was probably his bread and butter. She was an oil driller who could barely change the oil in her own car, let alone fly a fighter jet or pilot a space shuttle. They were at different levels and she knew it; and based on how he was looking at her, so intently, so did he.

He eventually looked away first, moving around to stand in front of his table. In a somewhat somber voice, he continued, "United States astronauts train for _years_. You have twelve days. Do we have any intelligent questions before we get started?"

At the other end of the table, Chick raised his hand...and he smartly waited for the Colonel to acknowledge him with a nod before opening his mouth. "What's an X-71?"

Charlotte could almost feel the figurative face-palm spread throughout the entire hangar.

The Colonel blinked for a moment before Truman, who was observing from the sidelines, spoke up. "Colonel Sharp, if I may?" Sharp nodded, motioning with a hand as if to indicate that the floor was his. "I've made arrangements for you all to see the X-71 later on this morning. It's a specially designed space vehicle that you'll be using to travel to the asteroid, we'll go over everything in relation to it then."

Curious and wanting to know more about this particular Colonel, Charlotte raised her hand. Taking control of the room back from Truman, Sharp acknowledged her with another nod. "Mr. Truman said you and the other pilots are experienced. How many shuttle missions have you been involved with? If you don't mind me asking."

"I've been on three shuttle missions—one on the Endeavor, in 1993...and two on the Atlantis, in 1994 and 1996. The last of which I was the mission commander." She sent him a nod as a thank you for his response, and he continued, now speaking to the group at large. "The next twelve days are not going to be easy...for any of you. You will be tested in ways you never thought possible. You will be forced to push the limits of your knowledge, your strength, and your endurance. Now, I will do my part; but I need, and expect, you to do yours. I won't waste your time and I certainly hope you won't waste mine. From this moment on, you will be treated as though you are NASA astronauts." His face hardened. "Act like it. The people here, in this hangar, as well as on this base and at the Space Center, will guide you and help you however you need it. If you find that you are in need of assistance, for whatever reason, _ask_ for it. Issues need to be addressed as soon as possible so that they can be resolved as soon as possible. Do we understand each other?"

There was a general murmur of agreement and a few of the guys nodded their heads obligingly. "Good." He stood from his lean against the table and walked back around, looking down at his own binder. "On the tables in front of you, you'll see that I've provided you with some reading material. On the days that you're here, make sure you have it with you. We've also provided you with writing paper and pens. Make use of them."

The next couple of hours went by slowly, Charlotte feeling like she was back in the cavernous lecture halls of her Alma Mater. She took notes where she felt appropriate but rarely asked questions, preferring to just let the Colonel talk. He was definitely an instructor on the regular because he seemed to almost predict what questions they would ask; he seemed to almost _sense_ when someone in the group didn't grasp something completely or was unsure, and without announcing who that person was, would change his language or his approach to drive the point home.

Over the course of that morning, he spoke about the birth of the shuttle program and how the predecessors of the still-mysterious X-71 had led them to discover or invent new technologies and new mechanical capabilities that made what they were attempting to do possible. Such things as advanced guidance systems, enhanced radar systems to help pilots detect and avoid approaching debris, thrusters, docking mechanisms...almost every inch of the new shuttles had been upgraded in one way or another.

"When you arrived this morning, you probably noticed the jets sitting out on the tarmac. The T-38 Talons have been used by NASA and the Air Force for years. Over the next couple of days, you will be spending a great deal of time in them. I suggest you do what you can to prepare yourselves."

AJ made a face, "How do we do that?"

Sharp took a second to glance over at Truman, who uncharacteristically smiled and looked down at the concrete floor. After a second, the Colonel said, "Just...watch what you eat at breakfast. Because chances are, you'll be seeing it again before lunch."

Charlotte nearly groaned out loud.

 _Lovely._

* * *

"You're the first civilians to ever see her."

As Truman had promised, they were led to what he referred to as the _VAB_ , or, _Vehicle Assembly Building_. It was an insanely tall structure isolated at the far corner of the base where the Saturn rockets of the Apollo era, as well as the modern Shuttle fleet, had been assembled, stored, and prepared before missions.

There was one bay door that in her estimation was at _least_ five-hundred feet high and she recognized it from watching Shuttle launches on TV growing up.

"We call them the X-71s. It's a top secret joint venture with the Air Force." Truman's voice echoed as he led the large group into the building. "She and her sister ship at Vandenberg are leaving for launch prep in Florida, but I thought you oughta take a look."

Charlotte didn't even feel her eyes widen or her mouth pop open.

Attached to industrial cables and suspended from the roof of a tall iron structure was the most sophisticated piece of machinery she had ever set eyes on. It didn't look a thing like the shuttles as she knew them, in fact, it was its own beast entirely—it was taller than the original shuttles, wider, and downright _mean_ looking. She found herself wondering how such a hulk of a machine could even make it off the ground.

"The two shuttles going up are the _Freedom_ and the _Independence._ Her titanium alloy impenetrable skin covers the toughest, meanest, most sophisticated space vehicle man has ever made." Truman nodded to a group of people that had gone unnoticed as they'd entered the building, Charlotte's eyes falling on Sharp as he moved to stand with them. She also couldn't help but look at the only other woman in a flight suit—she was on the shorter side with dark eyes and long dirty-blonde hair.

"Ok, Air Force Colonel Davis, NASA pilot Tucker will command the shuttle _Independence._ Air Force Colonel Sharp, NASA pilot Watts, Shuttle _Freedom_. Munitions specialists Gruber and Halsey will supervise the nuclear ordnance." As each person was introduced by name, they nodded their heads. Their eyes were set and serious, their stances rigid and regimented. Soldiers—quote, un-quote—through and through. "Anyway, uh...I just thought uh...you guys should meet."

And right then, Charlotte had to try very hard not to burst out laughing.

The relentless flow of testosterone that was traveling between the groups was almost stifling and she looked around at everyone, unable to catch a single eye. The men were too busy sizing each other up to really pay attention to anything else and Charlotte could feel the small undercurrent of inferiority on her side of the stand-off.

Oil drillers and astronauts.

Oil and vinegar.

After a couple of seconds, she somehow managed to make fleeting eye contact with Watts. Despite the woman's rigidity Charlotte could practically _read_ the like-minded thoughts that were passing behind the other woman's eyes.

And it was then that both women _nodded_ at each other _,_ coming to an unspoken agreement.

An agreement to beat down the glaring manhood if necessary. It was the end of the world...no one had time for pissing contests.

She was relieved that the NASA pilot knew that and their silent communication made her feel better.

* * *

The cafeteria was thankfully quiet enough that the crew was able to find a table where they all fit together, setting their trays down and taking a seat. Charlotte's tray had only a ham sandwich and a bottle of water and Papa Bear quirked an eyebrow at her. "Not hungry, Charlie?"

"Not really."

"I don't wanna be tellin' you to eat regularly, you know you're gonna be needin' it."

She squeezed his large arm gently. "Thanks Bear, I know."

AJ and Grace were the last to join the table and they all squished closer together to make room. Grace looked around at them all and asked, "So...how was this morning?"

It took a couple of seconds for anyone to speak, Oscar eventually being the one to break the silence. "Terrifying." He picked up his own water bottle and dejectedly started picking at the label. "It all seems real now."

"What, it didn't feel real _before_?"

The blonde cowboy shrugged slightly.

"It was seeing the shuttle, wasn't it?" Oscar looked up at her, seeming almost surprised at her insight. Charlotte smiled lightly. "I know how you feel."

"Look, guys, we're gonna get through this." Almost every pair of eyes at the table settled on Harry, each person seeming to hang on to his every word. That alone reminded her of the rig where it was the same way. When he spoke, his crew listened. "We'll take it one step at a time. We have the underwater training this afternoon, let's just make it through that, ok?"

Silence descended over them and after a moment or two Bear leaned over and left a smacking kiss in her hair. In his deep voice, he mirrored Harry's words. "One step at a time, Charlie. One step at a time."

* * *

She couldn't help but scrunch her face at the overpowering smell of chlorine that seemed to fill the entire building.

It turned out that her instincts on what to wear that morning had paid off. While they were required to wear large suits while in the water to help "simulate micro-gravity", all they needed underneath the suits was a pair of shorts and either a t-shirt or a tank top.

Charlotte was already ahead of the game.

As the rest of the crew was provided with the necessary underclothing, she simply stripped off her flight suit—hanging it up in one of the lockers provided—took off her shoes and socks, and carefully made her way out to the pool deck.

There were men both in and out of the water wearing what appeared to be SCUBA tanks and black wet suits and she instantly felt better knowing that there would be people in the water with her. She'd had this recurring nightmare that she'd get in the suit, be dropped in the water, and sink all the way to the bottom...left to die some ridiculous and horrible death.

 _"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome to our weightless environmental training facility."_

The voice over the PA system made her jump slightly as the rest of the guys exited the locker room and made their way over to her.

A man they hadn't met yet approached them on the deck and nodded in greeting. If she had to guess, he was probably in his mid to late thirties. He wore a complex looking headset, black track pants, a red NASA issued polo shirt, and black sneakers. "Good afternoon, I'm Brad Banks. I'll be overseeing your training here today. As you can see, we're equipped with state of the art facilities to help you get comfortable in near-zero gravity conditions. This dive tank holds over 6.2 million gallons of water, as well as a full-size mock-up of the space shuttle payload bay situated on the bottom. Now obviously you won't be traveling on what we'd call a _normal_ shuttle—the X71s are bigger and have more complicated systems on board. But for our purposes here, it'll be useful, at least to practice." He made eye contact with Harry, and said, "Have you worked with Mr. Truman yet on shuttle assignments?"

Seeming to understand what the man was talking about, Harry shook his head. "Hasn't come up yet."

"Well until you get that sorted out, we'll just get you guys into the suits and let you experience the feeling in the tank. As soon as assignments are done, we'll get the teams back in here for simulations." Glancing at the men in the wet suits behind him, Banks said, "Suit them up."

Charlotte, Rockhound, Harry, and AJ were selected to go first and getting into the massive suit was no picnic.

The techs helped her where they could and once she was lowered down into the water, the replica of the shuttle coming into view as her visor cleared, she couldn't help but stare at it. It was an otherworldly sight... _that_ coupled with the stifling feeling of being in the suit made the entire experience an interesting one.

There was a diver on either side of her, holding her arms in their tight grip as they led her smoothly through the crystal clear water.

Rockhound was floating around a little ways away. She heard a little static in her earpiece and then his voice came through suddenly, "So we're going swimming on this asteroid? Is that what this is for?"

The faces of the divers remained stoic at the comment. Charlotte, AJ, and Harry, however, all chuckled quietly.

* * *

"Here at downtown NASA, we call this the _Monster Armadillo_."

"It's gonna be retrofitted with your drilling arm—she'll turn eight-hundred turbo horses in near zero gravity."

It looked like a rover on steroids.

Harry looked at it with an intense kind of enthusiasm. "Mind if we take a look at her now?" And just like that, the Stamper crew descended on the machine, Harry issuing instructions as always. "All these rubber hoses gotta go, Max, count 'em up."

Max and Noonan somehow ended up on top of the beast, near the hatch...Chick was lying on a roller, examining the underside...and Harry was on the inside. Didn't matter where they all were, though; anything that wasn't nailed down was pulled out and discarded, metal parts and hoses alike.

"Make sure it's short-throw shifting!"

"Quincy!" From her place down on the floor where she was examining the treads on the tires, Charlotte watched as Harry literally popped up from the hatch and dumped the entire contents of a cardboard box over the side. "Somebody tell me what _this_ is." He held up what looked like a plastic arm of some sort with a trowel attached at the bottom. "A plastic ice cream scoop? What'd that cost, about four-hundred dollars-"

He threw it to the floor, narrowly missing Truman's feet.

* * *

It was nearly seven o'clock by the time they were finally released and escorted back to the dormitories. Truman told them before leaving that they were being given a couple of hours to themselves that evening, however, it was important that they got a decent night's sleep. " _Air flight training starts tomorrow,"_ he'd said, _"You'll need all the rest you can get."_

The rest of the guys settled down relatively quickly—Oscar and AJ, for example, sat themselves down on the floor in the hallway with a deck of cards. Charlotte quickly changed her clothes, grabbed her beat up old walk-man, and headed back out, ruffling Oscar's shaggy blonde hair as she walked by.

He looked up at her. "Where you off to?"

"Gonna go for a run. Just need some fresh air."

"You didn't get enough today?"

"It'll help me sleep better." The two men smiled at her and she returned the gesture, sending them both a quick wave as she headed towards the elevator.

The elevator ride down to the main floor lasted all of two seconds and when she stepped out onto the shiny tiled floor the guard at the desk perked up and stood from his chair. "Can I help you?"

Wrapping the cord of her headphones around the back of her neck, she nodded, "Is there somewhere I can go for a run?"

"There are walking paths that surround the entire facility. Most of the staff has left for the night, as long as you stay inside the fence line." He studied her for a moment. "Just keep your ID badge visible. If anyone questions you, tell them to call me."

Pulling the ID card from the pocket her shorts, she held it up for him before clipping it to the front of her shirt.

He motioned towards the front door and she smiled a thank you.

The fresh and cool breeze hit her the second she walked through the doors and she instantly felt better, letting out a long breath. Sticking her bud earphones in her ears, she pressed play on her walk-man and took off running, relishing the feeling of her feet hitting the ground with each stride.

She'd first started running during her first year at the University of Houston, finding out that it was practically the only thing that helped alleviate the stress of her classes. It gave her time to think, to really and truly think about things, and it didn't take long for it to become her one and only addiction.

Before her father died, she'd never been one to enjoy the outdoors; the birds, the bugs, the dirt. But after moving in with Harry, and as she'd gotten older, she'd learned to appreciate it as all people should.

She loved the feeling of the warm sun on her skin. The feeling of the cool water when she went swimming in the pond behind Harry's old house in Galveston. The feeling of the warm soil between her fingers when she planted the flowers in front of her little house in Houston.

There were so many things she had taken for granted over the years, and right then, as she _pounded the pavement_ on the grounds of one of NASA's most well-known facilities, she realized it.

AC/DC's _Shoot To Thrill_ came blasting through her earphones and she increased her pace, running to the beat of the music.

She was so focused on keeping her pace that she didn't notice the man watching her on the far side of the courtyard.

He'd been on his way to Truman's office, his hand resting on the entrance's door handle when he'd spotted her...and he'd stopped in his tracks.

 _Scofield._

The only woman on an all-man crew.

She'd drawn the attention, maybe even _scrutiny,_ of many people since they'd arrived. The scientists, technicians, astronauts, and instructors all couldn't help but wonder how a twenty-six year old geologist originally from Baltimore had found a place amongst the roughnecks that now seemed to be the world's only hope.

He was no stranger to women breaking through the so-called _glass ceiling_ in professions that were dominated by men; hell, his own co-pilot was practically a poster child for it. Charlotte Scofield was simply Watts' counterpart from a different profession and the ordinarily stern Colonel couldn't help but respect her for it.

With a small smile on his face he finally pulled open the heavy glass door of the administration building and made his way inside, her blaring rock music—which he could hear from across the courtyard—was still echoing in his ears when he knocked on the executive director's door a couple of minutes later.

As he always did, he waited for Truman to call out, " _Come in_ ," before letting himself in. The older man was sitting behind his desk, his expensive leather chair turned to face the large window at the back of the office. The Colonel stood and waited silently, his hands firmly behind his back.

After a moment or two of silence, Truman spoke up, "Are things organized for tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir. Colonel Davis and myself have... _recruited_ , if you will, some of our best pilots to assist. We have six Talons that will be in preparation overnight, ready to fly first thing tomorrow."

"Thank you, Will, for taking the lead on this."

"No need to thank me, sir. I feel... _honored_ to be involved."

Truman slowly turned his chair around to face the Colonel, his hands folded neatly in his lap. "You're one of the best we have. If anyone can get this group through this, get done what needs to get done, it's going to be you." The two men locked eyes. "I know they're not what you expected, what _anyone_ expected-"

Sharp raised a hand to interrupt, "Sir, if I could speak for a moment?" Truman nodded and the younger man took a breath, "With the way things are, we aren't in a position to _expect_ anything. My entire career in the Air Force, and then ultimately NASA, has been centered around exploring the universe; making discoveries and pushing the limits of manned spaceflight. Now I... _we_...find ourselves looking not to the universe for answers, but looking _here_." Sharp swallowed hard and shook his head somewhat dejectedly before saying, "Dan, I'm the first to admit that I didn't think much of this crew the first time I saw them-"

"The _wrong stuff_?"

Sharp huffed a quiet laugh. "They may not be the most _regimented_ or refined group I've ever seen, but they're motivated. And when all is said and done? Maybe that'll be enough."

Seeming to take the Colonel's words to heart Truman nodded before sitting up in his chair, seeming to shake off whatever funk he'd been in when Sharp had first entered the office. In a voice that almost seemed to beg for honesty, he asked, "Do you really think they can do it?"

"I want to believe that they can. They're here, putting up with all of this. Doing what we ask of them. They have the fate of the world on their shoulders, no small burden. I'm hoping that when push comes to shove, they'll come through." He paused for a second, before adding, "They have to."

The candor of the response seemed to be enough for Truman in that moment because he nodded, standing from his chair and extending a hand across his desk. "Thank you."

The two men shook hands quickly and Sharp said, "Goodnight, sir," before letting himself out of the office, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

 **END**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, the characters, or the story. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

When they arrived back at Ellington the following morning, there was no time wasted with introductions or explanations of how the day would go. They were immediately led into one of the smaller hangars on the base and were told to stand in a semi-circle around the outer perimeter of a massive NASA logo on the floor.

They'd each taken the time that morning to pack a quick change of clothes to take with them, making use of the medium-sized black backpacks that had been provided to them.

Charlotte had packed not only a change of clothes, but a small package of anti-nausea pills she'd gotten from the base physician the day before. She had never been the best flyer in the world and the last thing she wanted to do was go down in history as the would-be astronaut that blew her cookies less than a minute after taking off from the airstrip. Thankfully, the base physician had understood her plight and provided the over-the-counter meds after making a short little note on her chart.

They'd been standing there in silence for only a couple of minutes when a tough-as-nails officer joined them—Colonels Sharp and Davis right on his heels. "I'm Lieutenant General Kelso. Welcome to _Flight Training 101_." He looked around the group with an honest-to-goodness scowl on his face and Charlotte was sure his eyes were narrowed behind his sunglasses. "This is about the sorriest group of people I've seen in all my military career. Your space flight is gonna be a brutal assault on your senses. I'm here to give you a taste of that." He crossed his arms across his broad chest. "NASA's got some of the finest pilots in the world, they're gonna be suckin' your eyes into the back of your heads." Kelso glanced over his shoulder and Sharp obediently stepped forward.

"We have six pilots, six planes. You'll each be going up twice. Obviously we'll be doing this in shifts, we wanted to give you breaks in between." Looking down at the paper in his hand, he started to read, "Alright, listen up: Stamper, you'll be with Colonel Davis first. Chick, you're with Goodspeed. Max, you're with Tucker. AJ, you're with Hall. Rockhound, you're with Morse. And Scofield?" He looked up and met her eyes. "You're with me."

 _Of course I am._

She tried not to think of it as a death sentence.

A wicked grin appeared on the General's face. "Make no mistake, this will be one of the worst days you have here; these pilots have been instructed to make your lives a living hell for as long as you're in the rear seat of that plane. I'm gonna twist you. And I'm gonna flip you. Frap your body til' your bones hurt. When you squeal? I'm just gonna go faster and harder." After a second of letting that truly horrific speech sink in, he nodded to Sharp. "Take 'em up."

The pilots descended on the group of them and they scattered, heading to their respective planes; which were sitting on the heated tarmac with their glistening canopies open and waiting.

"Miss Scofield?" She snapped out of her reverie and looked over at the Colonel. "Follow me, please."

He led her down the airfield to one of the very last planes in the lineup. It was enormous, it was sleek...and in thick black lettering-on the left side, just under the rim of the cockpit-was his name. _Col. Will Sharp._ His plane.

The moment reminded of her of a time when she'd been dating this idiot jock back at the university who'd come to pick her up for a date one night in his brand new car. The damn thing was spotless and he'd asked her to take her shoes off before getting in.

She'd dumped him, right then and there in the middle of Harry's driveway.

It was obvious that the Colonel took just as much pride in his plane. It was spotless, inside and outside from what she could see from her place there on the ground.

Oblivious to her inner musings, Sharp seemed to almost materialise in front of her with a helmet in his hands. He looked at her for a second before saying, "Take the elastic out of your hair, please?" She raised an eyebrow, as if to silently ask him _why_. He held up the helmet. "This'll sit low on your neck. Might be uncomfortable for you."

As she reached up and pulled the elastic from her hair, relishing the feeling of it blowing around lightly in the morning's breeze, she snarked, "Haven't you been instructed to make my life a living hell?"

"I have." He carefully lowered the helmet onto her head, making sure that it didn't catch or hurt her ears. "But that's _in_ the air. This is going to be difficult enough, let's not add to it if we don't have to."

"How _humane_ of you."

"You'll find I have my moments." Motioning to the plane, he led her over to the ladder and watched her closely as she started to climb...her heavy boots clanging on the somewhat flimsy metal stairs with every step she took. Once she was situated he climbed up behind her and instructed her on the easiest way to climb inside, quickly placing a hand on the back of her head to keep her from hitting it on the glass canopy. After she practically fell into the deep bucket seat, he climbed the rest of the way up, reaching in and helping her with her restraints.

One or two other planes already had their engines running and were being directed to the runway and for a second she felt bad for putting him behind schedule. But he didn't seem to care in the least as he leaned over her, checking to make sure everything was as it should be.

She watched him closely, very aware of his movements as his hands ghosted across her as he tightened the straps. If she had to guess she'd say that he was _intentionally_ avoiding her eyes and she made it her personal mission to get him to look at her. With a humor-filled lilt in her voice, she said, "I'll try not to puke in your plane."

The steely look on his face cracked slightly and he finally made eye contact, pulling his hands back. "I'd appreciate that."

"Any air sickness bags?"

She could tell he wanted to chuckle, but instead, he decided to maintain an air of professionalism. "Nowhere to put them." Without waiting for her response he went about climbing into the pilot's seat—his movements calm, confident, and graceful. She couldn't see much of him from where she was sitting, just the very top of his helmet. His voice came through her earpiece suddenly and clearly. "Ready?"

She nodded even though he couldn't see it. "Ready."

There was a mechanical whirring noise as he flipped a switch, the glass canopy lowering down and clicking into place around them. She could feel the rumble as he started the engine and an attendant on the tarmac made his way over with the glowing orange batons in his hands, directing traffic as the rest of the pilots moved their planes slowly and carefully into position.

The taxing to the runway wasn't bad.

The minute that they sat there at the beginning of the runway wasn't bad.

But when Sharp hit what she assumed was a throttle of some sort and that plane took off, gaining a ridiculous amount of speed as it shot down the runway, she felt a scream build up in the back of her throat.

She was used to big hulking jumbo jets, commercial airliners that _chugged_ their way skywards. The plane she was in at that moment however accelerated upwards like a bullet being shot from a gun. The pressure against her chest was overwhelming and for the shortest second, she was afraid of passing out.

And just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymore, they leveled out, Sharp's voice coming over the earpiece again. "Ms. Scofield, you still with me back there?"

She hesitated a second, wanting to make sure her voice sounded as solid as his did. She swallowed hard, trying to swallow back the bile she felt building up. "Still here."

"Good."

And without the slightest warning the jet seemed to almost fall from the sky, the very force of it almost lifting her right out of her seat. She clenched her teeth together and closed her eyes, wishing that she had a handle or something to hold on to.

Even with her eyes closed she could feel the plane moving; shooting forward with an unimaginable burst of speed and forcing her back into her seat before suddenly slowing right down and forcing her forward. She could feel them spinning wildly to the point where she was _sure_ they were out of control...and then they'd straighten out, giving her a few seconds reprieve before doing it all again.

They were inverted.

They were doing barrel rolls.

They were moving in what felt like a dozen different directions at once, at a speed that was way too fast.

And through it all the Colonel remained silent; concentrating on what he was doing or ignoring her on purpose, she had no idea. She didn't think she'd be able to speak anyway, with her teeth clenched the way they were.

She'd always loved roller coasters growing up; the speed, the quick turns, the feeling of the wind blowing through her hair as she held her arms up above her head. There was something about not being in control, the exhilaration of each and every second and the quick movements of the cart.

That flight was _nothing_ like that.

There was such an intense pressure, it felt like her lungs and her heart were being _squeezed_ by a pair of ghostly hands. She tried to focus on her breathing, tried to focus on _not_ focusing on the feeling of her rapidly beating heart pounding against her ribs.

Through her haze of panic she could hear the Colonel speaking over the radio and assumed—more like _prayed to almighty God_ —that he was asking for permission to land. After a second he was speaking directly to her, his voice coming through her helmet again. "Ms. Scofield?" When she didn't answer, he spoke a little louder. "Charlotte?"

She had to force her mouth open, thankful it didn't need to be pried open with a crowbar. "Yes." She suddenly realized that there was a coppery tang in her mouth and she attempted to swallow, instantly feeling a shooting pain in her bottom lip. "I...I think I'm bleeding."

"Is it a nosebleed?"

"No...my lip, I think it's my lip."

There was a sound of velcro ripping open and Sharp reached back with a slightly crumpled tissue in his gloved fingers. "Use this. We'll be on the ground shortly."

She reached forward and snatched the tissue from him, trying hard to ignore how badly her hands were shaking.

"Just breathe slowly, in and out. Work on getting your heart rate back down."

There was the telltale feeling of the plane descending and she looked out through the glass, watching as they got lower and lower, breaking through the thick clouds.

There was an atmosphere in the cockpit that hadn't been there before they'd taken off. The Colonel was nearly vibrating with excitement, she could practically feel it coming off of him in waves.

The way he felt after flying must've been similar to how she felt when they struck oil back on the rig. For him, it was an adrenaline rush; being in that plane and travelling at Mach two with his hair on fire was what he was meant to do. When he was on the ground, he was still and he was restless. He was stranded.

She understood.

It didn't take long for the base to come into view beneath them and when the wheels finally touched back down on the hard ground, Charlotte was finally able to breathe again. She sat back in her seat and let Sharp do whatever he needed to do, bringing the plane to a slow and smooth stop.

When the canopy lifted back up a burst of fresh air assaulted her senses and she forced herself to take a deep breath, blinking in the sunlight.

Sharp removed his helmet and as soon as one of the attendant's below had moved a ladder up beside the plane, he stood up and climbed out of the cockpit, once again standing on the metal platform so he could look in at her. He looked her up and down for a moment before his eyes settled on what she assumed was a red and bloody lower lip. After a second, he said, "Come on, let's get you outta here."

He leaned across her again and undid the restraints, nearly supporting all of her weight as he helped her stand. Her legs were shaky and she reached out for him, thankful he was there when he stopped her from nearly tumbling back down into the seat. "Just...take your time." He said, quietly. "No rush."

She was almost too out of it to realize how close their faces were…

…but not quite.

She studied his face in silence, taking in the sharpness of his features that she hadn't really noticed before; his high cheekbones, the light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks...and those eyes. A mix of electricity and ice, they were eyes that had seen the world from the cockpit of a fighter jet and from the command deck of two space shuttles.

When he finally made eye contact with her again, she tried to wipe what she hoped wasn't the look of a besotted teenager from her face.

All-in-all, Charlotte realized, these were strange thoughts to be having at a time like this.

It was the stress of the situation, that's what it was. And the blood loss.

The Colonel's eyes had thawed considerably over those few seconds and she could tell that he'd be a real swooner if he ever all-out smiled. "You feeling better?"

The other planes had started landing as well and there was the truly unpleasant sound of sick splattering across the pavement nearby. She tried to drown the noise out as she nodded, wanting nothing more at that moment than to get back inside the hangar and get her thoughts together.

"Ok, lean on me if you have to." And with the Colonel's help and his strong grip, she somehow managed to climb out of the plane and make it down the ladder. Once they were on the ground, he didn't even hesitate in placing his gloved hands on either side of her helmet and gently lifting it off. He _did_ hesitate, however, before gently smoothing down her fly-away hair and placing his thumb on her chin so he could get a good look at her wounded lip. "Doesn't look like you'll need stitches, but it's gonna be sore for the next day or so. You bit into it pretty good."

She opened her mouth to say something but was distracted by Rockhound as he passed by them. He was still wearing his helmet as he swayed back and forth, the straps dangling aimlessly, his eyes nearly crossed from the daze he was in. "Hey Rock?" He came to an unsteady stop and looked over at her. "You ok?"

The only reply he gave her was a queasy hiccup.

Starting to feel like she was getting her gravity back she looked up into Sharp's eyes and cleared her throat, only then realizing that he was still touching her face. "Well, I should...probably-" she nodded towards the hangar and Sharp pulled his hand away as if he'd been burned, taking a few measured steps back from her.

His air of stoicism was back as he said, "You can make it back yourself?"

"I think I'll manage, thanks." And with one last look at him, she crossed over to Rockhound and slipped stealthily under his arm, allowing him to lean on her. "Come on, Rock. It's not too far."

Looking around at the others who had just landed, she could see that all of them were definitely worse for wear.

All except Chick, of course.

The ex-Commando looked as fresh as a Georgia peach as he walked with Harry a few paces ahead. Max, however, probably fared the worst out of all of them.

"Sorry for the rib chunks all over your dashboard."

At least Tucker had a good enough sense of humour to laugh.

* * *

Back in her room late that night, Charlotte examined her sore lip in the bathroom mirror.

An Air Force medic had examined her before her second flight of the day, which was considerably less intense than the first. He'd cleaned it with an antiseptic gauze pad and had given her a single Tylenol for the pain. " _Avoid hot food or beverages for the day"_ , he'd said before moving over to look at Rockhound, who was throwing up for the third time since returning to the hangar. The medic in her knew that Sharp had been right about not needing stitches; unfortunately, he'd _also_ been right about it being sore.

She could barely speak without sharp pains shooting through it and she could only hope that it would hurt less when she woke up the following morning.

"How's it feeling?"

Grace, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, watched as she slowly made her way out of the bathroom. "It's sore. Should be better tomorrow."

"I can't even imagine. You bite your lip. Max and Rockhound were _both_ were sick. Oscar _passed out_ the first time."

Settling down on her own bed and resting her back against the cool wall, Charlotte let out a breath. "Could've been worse, I guess."

"Who'd you go up with?"

"Sharp, the first time...then some guy named Hall the second. I don't know how these guys do that day in and day out, I swear to God, they must have cast-iron insides."

"Well, they're probably used to it. I'm sure the first time they did it they reacted the same way you guys did."

She couldn't help but snort. "I don't know, they all seem so unshakeable, you know? Even with everything going on." There was a truly sympathetic expression on Grace's face and Charlotte couldn't help but find comfort in it. The girl sitting across from her was her sister, biology be damned, and she was thankful for the willing ear. "I guess it helps to have years and years of training where they teach you how to stay apathetic."

"You never know what happens behind closed doors, Charlie. They could be just as torn up as you are, they just can't show it."

"Can't or won't?"

"Maybe a little bit of both. They _can't_ because they're trying to be the teachers, the instructors…and they _won't_ because they want to believe that they're stronger than that."

"You seem to think a lot of them."

"I think a lot of _all_ of you. It doesn't matter where any of you come from or what experience you have, you're all looking at this situation the same way." She shrugged lightly. "You're people trying to save the world. That's it. Jobs, education, experience…none of it matters. You're all people."

"You're very wise, Gracie."

"Yeah, sometimes." She smiled. "I'm sort of looking at it from the outside so I may be a _little_ less bias than you."

"I don't mean to be biased. It's just hard to give people the benefit of the doubt when they refuse to give it to you."

Grace quirked an eyebrow, "Maybe they feel the same way about you?"

"Ok, logic has no place here! I want to rant."

She laughed as their room door sprang open, AJ sending them both a smile as he let himself in. "I can hear you two giggling all the way down the hallway." He crossed the floor in three quick strides and leaned down, placing a quick kiss in Grace's hair. After a second, he glanced over at Charlotte. "You want a smooch, too?"

"Touch me and you're a dead man."

"No, you're right," He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll leave that for the steely-eyed Colonel."

Charlotte felt her breath hitch but she forced it down, settling instead for a heatless glare. "What's that mean?"

"Yeah," Grace perked right up, her big doe eyes shining. "What's that mean?"

"Oh, nothin'. Just that I saw you two at the airfield today, thought you guys were maybe havin' a moment."

Grace's eyes widened even more at his words and Charlotte tried her best to ignore it, waving a hand at him. "We were definitely _not_ having a moment."

"No moment?"

"I've known the man for two days and the world is coming to an end. No, there was no moment."

Boston's _Don't Look Back_ started loudly playing in another room down the hall and AJ shrugged his shoulders, his tone changing from a teasing one to something a little more sincere. "You know there'd be nothing wrong with it if there _had_ been a moment, right? I mean…" He took a seat on the edge of Grace's bed. "You're both adults, emotions are running high, it's not _completely_ crazy to think that you could both, _you_ _know_ —"

She let out a frustrated breath, "AJ-"

"Charlie, I just wanna make sure you know that there's nothing wrong with it." He held up a placating hand. "That's all."

They looked at each other for a moment and Charlotte couldn't help but notice how closely Grace and AJ were sitting, how at least _one part_ of them was always touching—whether it be a hand or an arm, or her leaning down to rest her head on his shoulder. It must've made their situation just a little bit more bearable having someone there to lean on, literally and figuratively.

She couldn't deny that having someone, a companion, to share her feelings with would make things easier. But she wasn't going to go _looking_ for it or _imagining_ it where it didn't exist. What had happened on the airfield that day—if indeed anything had happened at all—probably meant absolutely nothing. AJ was right, emotions were running high and the whole lot of them were stressed and barely sleeping. He'd been high on adrenaline after a successful flight and she'd been half out of her mind with nausea.

And what she said had been right, as well; she'd only known the man for two days. For all she knew he was happily married—a Mrs. Sharp hidden away somewhere, keeping house, and raising a couple of little blue-eyed kids somewhere in Houston. Or New York. Or Los Angeles.

She refused to allow herself to fall victim to some kind of _end-of-the-world_ fairy-tale. Their situation was far too real, their responsibilities far too great, for any of that nonsense. She had to stay focused. They _all_ did.

But AJ's words came from someplace real, a place of friendship…a place of _family_ …and so she nodded, sending him a small but genuine smile.

"Thanks, AJ. I know."

* * *

Around the same time on the other side of the complex, Will Sharp was still wide awake.

He'd been in a bit of a stupor when he'd finally returned to his room that night, moving slowly as he'd changed out of his flight suit and climbed into a hot shower.

Sitting there at his desk in black track pants and a grey sweater, he ran his hands down his face and rubbed his eyes in an effort to snap himself out of it.

It wasn't often that he found himself in such a state, especially when he was staying on base or preparing for a mission. He had always prided himself on being in control of his emotions and staying professional, and to say that he was mildly thrown by the events that afternoon would be an understatement. He was a Colonel in the United States Air Force...a representative of the space program...and there he was, compulsively studying a twenty-six year old geologist-slash-oil driller from Baltimore.

He _knew_ she was from Baltimore because he'd read her personnel file what felt like a thousand and one times.

Charlotte Elizabeth Scofield.

Born January 29th 1972, at Mercy Medical Center.

Mother: Theresa Anne Mackenzie—left the family home in September 1980. Her current whereabouts, somewhere in Mt. Vernon, Ohio.

Father, Andrew Vincent Scofield—retired from the US Armed Forces, November 1981. Passed away from colon cancer, January 1988.

It went on and on with detailed information about her time at the University of Houston, her transcripts, her medical records, her closest associations and friends; it was a treasure trove of information. And even though he was well within his rights as a mission commander to look at it, he couldn't help but feel like he was invading her privacy.

In a sudden fit of frustration he forcefully slapped the folder closed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face again.

There was a quiet knock on his door and Sharp finally lowered his hands as Davis, dressed similarly but with a white towel draped across the back of his neck, let himself in. "I saw your light on. What are you still doing up? Can't sleep?"

"Haven't even tried yet. Can't seem to shut down lately."

"Yeah, that seems to be going around; Gruber and Halsey are up, too." He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke with a lilt of concern in his voice. "Is it the flight? I saw the Scofield girl with a pretty angry lookin' lip on the bus ride back."

"No, the flight was fine. As good as can be expected, I guess." Sharp let out a long breath. "And I think it's a combination of everything, there's a lot going on."

The other man nodded in understanding and leaned back against the wall. After a second of companionable silence, he asked, "You talk with Melanie at all?"

"I tried calling this morning but she wasn't home. Probably taking the girls to school."

A wide smile came across Davis' face. "Christ, they must be getting big now. I can't remember the last time I saw them. Faith is what…five?"

"No, she's six." Sharp returned the smile. "And Amy is a very precocious four and a half."

"That's a good age. I remember when Brian was that age, everything was _one more_. One more piggy-back ride, one more push on the swing, one more cookie—" The two of them chuckled together, Davis shaking his head. "He's gonna be _fourteen_ next week, I can't believe it. When did I get so old?"

"Guess you must've blinked."

"Yeah, it's gotta be the blinking. No more blinking."

Unable to really look anywhere else, Sharp's eyes fell on the framed photo of his two daughters that he kept in a place of honor on his desk.

He remembered the day he'd taken that photo vividly—it was the last time he'd seen them, only a week or so before, and they'd spent the day at the beach in Galveston. Both girls were sitting on a rickety old picnic table under a tree, just a few steps from the hot sand. Faith's arms were around her little sister in one of the rare moments where they weren't arguing.

The picture brought him peace but also a great deal of sadness. He didn't see them nearly as much as she should have, as much as he wanted to.

When it came to his daughters, the divorce had done nothing but make him worry.

Worry that he'd miss something important, like a solo in a school play or a first goal at a soccer game. A bad dream or a first heartbreak. That one day one of his girls would reach out for him and he wouldn't be there.

There were so many things he was missing out on now that he wasn't there every day, his job having played a very large role in that, and he was afraid that his little girls would grow up and resent him for it.

 _If they grow up._

"Look, Will, it's none of my business," Davis' voice was startlingly loud in the small and silent space, "but maybe you should tell Melanie what's going on…you know, sit down with her and explain things. You know that she'd give you all the time you wanted with the girls—"

Clearing his throat, Sharp shook his head, "No, I don't want to mess with the girls' routine and I don't want to scare them _or_ her. Once we get through this, I'll make sure I get my time. I'm guessing you told Bernadette?"

"I did. Called her as soon as I got the assignment. I kinda had to, I mean, you know what she's like. And plus it's easier to deal with all this when you've got someone to talk to at the end of the day, you know?"

Yeah, he _used_ to.

"Look, don't worry about Scofield and the others; I'm sure they'll pull through just fine. Silver lining though, at least you didn't get the throw-up. One of the guys working grounds crew said that Tucker was out there for over an _hour_ wiping everything down." Davis cringed and Sharp couldn't help but chuckle, trying to get the image of throw-up floating around weightlessly inside a cockpit out of his mind.

"Yeah, I guess there's that."

"Try and get some sleep, Will. Coffee tomorrow morning?"

Sharp nodded, "Yeah, see you then."

They shared a quick goodnight and then Davis was gone, pulling the door closed gently behind him.

He sat there quietly for a few more minutes before slowly standing from his chair and switching off his desk lamp. He didn't know if sleep would find him that night—he had far too much to think about—but he'd try his best.

After all, he couldn't very well scold his crew for not taking care of themselves when he was just as guilty of it.

* * *

By eight o'clock the next morning, Charlotte had smears of motor oil on her cheeks and arms making that morning's shower completely pointless. The white t-shirt she was wearing was also be-speckled with bits of dirt and crud but she didn't pay the slightest bit of attention, dropping the socket wrench down to the work bench with a clatter.

Oscar, who was working a little ways away at the opposite end of the bench, looked over at her and laughed to himself. "Charlie? Sweetheart?" He pulled a red rag from the back pocket of his coveralls and held it out to her. "You got... _stuff_...all over yourself."

She took the rag with a quiet _thank you_ and set about wiping off her face, listening as Oscar and AJ picked up their previous conversation. "If you had to say, who would you say?"

"I don't know, Oscar, who do you think you are?"

"Han Solo."

The response was so full of _'_ well, _duh_ ' that Charlotte couldn't help but laugh quietly, picking up the wrench again. AJ glanced over at her before shaking his head, going back to what he was doing. "No. If anybody's anybody, _I'm_ Han. And you're...you're Chewbacca."

"Chewie?! Have you even _seen_ Star Wars?"

"Yeah, about a hundred times-"

"Well, watch it again." He shook his head. " _Chewie_."

Even though Charlotte had seen Star Wars close to a dozen times herself and even though she knew what their answer would be, she said, "Why don't you _both_ be Han Solo? That way it's fair."

The blonde and the brunette slowly turned their heads to look at her and while she never made eye contact with either of them, instead focusing on her task, she could practically feel the disgusted looks they were shooting at her.

"Because there's only _one_ Han Solo." AJ said slowly. "Come on, Charlie, get a grip, huh?"

 _God,_ she loved them.

* * *

"It ain't funny, Charlie-"

"That woman made you whip your head around so fast, I'm surprised you didn't pull something."

The dirty look that Bear gave her as they left the locker room was born purely of embarrassment and she held up her hands, trying her best to placate. She had to get away from the big man and let the giggles out before something ruptured.

The introduction to the DATs that afternoon had certainly been one for the books and even though it had been _beyond cool—_ Oscar's words, not hers—to be locked in the big room that looked like a bank vault and actually experience what weightlessness would feel like, the highlight of it had been Watts and Bear.

For such a small woman, Watts sure had a set of lungs on her. That woman could yell.

"That's what you get for thinkin' with your _downstairs_ brain, Pooh Bear."

The guys all laughed at the comment while Bear simply blinked owlishly.

* * *

"Ok, ladies and gentlemen, so here's the flight plan. Now let's keep the laughter to a minimum, I know this is not to scale."

The entire group of them, pilots and drillers alike, were seated together around a large conference table in a board room just off from Mission Control. Suspended from the ceiling on two wires were models of the Earth and the moon, placed about four feet apart. Truman held in his hands two small replicas of the space shuttles attached to sticks and proceeded to act out the entire mission, his glasses sliding low on his nose.

Charlotte relaxed in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers out of nerves.

"Both shuttles will take off Tuesday at 6:30PM. Now, sixty-seven minutes later, you're gonna dock with the Russian space station to meet Cosmonaut Andropov, who will refuel the shuttles with liquid O2—that's your fuel—then you'll release and take a sixty-hour trip toward the moon. Now, we only have _one shot_ of landing on this rock and that's precisely when the asteroid passes by the moon." Quincy now joined the fray, grabbing the replica of the asteroid and moving it slowly in behind the moon. "You'll then use lunar gravity and burn your thrusters, sling-shotting you around the moon coming up _behind_ the asteroid. You'll be upward of eleven G's—"

"Yeah, I remember this one—" Rockhound's voice interrupted the demonstration and we all looked over at him. Truman's eyes were slightly narrowed. "It's where the coyote sat his ass down in a slingshot, then he strapped himself to an Acme rocket. Is that what we're doin' here?"

Harry shifted in his seat, admonishing him quietly, "Rockhound."

"No, no, really, because it didn't work out too well for the coyote, Harry."

"Well, actually, we have a lot better rockets than the coyote." Still looking annoyed but trying desperately to hold it in, Truman continued, "Now, when you've finished your…Road Runner thrust move…you'll be moving at 22, 500 miles per hour. Coming around behind the asteroid, where we're hoping that the tail debris will be cleared by the moon's gravity. And you'll land _right here_. That's it."

Flight Director Clark, who was standing off to the side, cleared his throat and said, "We got separate landing sites for each team. Softest parts of the rock as we can figure. At NASA, we don't take chances. We double up on everything. First team that hits eight-hundred feet wins. Now this rock is big, it's dense…it's got _some_ gravity, you can walk around. But use your thrusters so you can work easier."

Oscar politely held up his hand, "Ok, Mr. Truman, let's say that we actually _do_ land on this. What's it gonna be like up there?"

"Two-hundred degrees in sunlight. Minus two-hundred in the shade. Canyons of razor-sharp rock. Unpredictable gravitational conditions. Unexpected eruptions. Things like that."

"Ok, so the scariest environment imaginable." He chewed his gum, "Thanks. That's all you gotta say: scariest environment imaginable."

"Ok, so you drill, you drop the nuke, and you leave. Now here's the key. You're gonna remote detonate the bomb before the asteroid passes _this_ plane, Zero Barrier." Quincy had switched on a video screen at the front of the room that depicted the asteroid on the approach to Earth. There was a visible red threshold and just before crossing it, the digital asteroid split into two equal pieces. "You do that, and the remaining pieces of rock should be deflected enough to pass right by us. Now, if the bomb explodes _after_ Zero Barrier—" The simulation reset itself, depicting the asteroid breaking apart after crossing the threshold. Both pieces hit the Earth and the screen turned to an ominous black. "—game's over."

* * *

"Grace is old enough to vote, Harry. She's old enough to drink, get married if she wants to, get a divorce—"

Harry was quickly making his way through the complex with Chick, Rockhound, Bear, Max and Oscar hot on his heels. He couldn't help but keep an eye open for the _other_ girl he'd raised; hell, he'd already seen one in a compromising position that night, he didn't need to see the other one that way, too.

His heart and his temper just couldn't friggin' handle it.

"Let me tell you somethin', fellas. When I get back, when we get this job done, I will deal with this in my own way."

Rockhound took a few quicker strides in an effort to catch up to his determined friend, saying, "Come on, Harry. It's not like I'm rooting for AJ here. I'm just sayin', Grace isn't a little girl anymore—"

"Hey, Rock, wait a minute. Let me get a pencil and a piece of paper. I wanna jot down all your words of wisdom here."

"Get serious, Harry, come on! While we were off trotting the globe, hunting mud, Gracie grew up to become a full-blown hottie, you know?"

Harry held up a hand. His temper was starting to send him _danger_ messages.

"She's a babe."

And then there was Max, "Harry, she is _fully_ hot, she is—"

"Max, Max, ok. You're talkin' about my little girl, alright? I think I know who and what she is, ok?"

"Ok, but Harry, all we're sayin' is we're talkin' about a kid who's coming into her own right now! And she's getting curious about her body…and she's _exploring_ her sexuality…and you know what?"

"Oscar."

"That's a natural thing."

"You are about _five_ minutes older than Grace is. Why should I listen to you?"

Looking a little hyper, Oscar said, "And I know what it's like to have your hormones pulling you in just, you know, a thousand different directions—"

"Yo, Harry, no disrespect, man—" Bear motioned around the group, "—but we _all_ helped to raise her. Charlie too, for that matter. So in part, we all feel like a bunch of daddies here."

Rockhound nodded, "That's true."

"Well, I'll be damned if I worked all these years so my little girl can marry a roughneck. She's better than that. Better than all of us." He looked at each of them in turn; the men he considered his friends, his family…the only people in the world that he'd ever really trusted or worked well with. He'd entrusted his daughters to them, his company, his livelihood and they'd never let him down. On the contrary, they'd done nothing but prove their worth over and over again. "I wanted more for Grace and Charlotte, more than _this_ …more than what we are. They both deserve good lives, better than what this life can get them."

"And they'll get those things, Harry. They're smart girls…smart _women._ "

Bear nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "They sure are."

"At some point, you just gotta let go and trust they know what they're doing."

"Marrying AJ is an example of Grace knowing what she's doing?"

Chick, who up until that point had remained silent, spoke suddenly and quietly from his place behind everyone else. "You never know, Harry. He may surprise you."

And it was those words that finally settled down the angry man's temper, the knowing expression on Chick's face like a balm to Harry's nerve-endings.

Even though he didn't usually believe in people changing who they truly were, he had to admit that he'd been surprised a lot since arriving in Houston a couple of days before.

There was a giant asteroid screaming towards Earth and _they_ were humanity's best option.

Yeah, his life was just full of surprises.

 **END**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer** **:** I don't own Armageddon, the story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

What government agency would take millions of dollars' worth of equipment out into the middle of the blazing hot desert for field testing?

NASA.

 _NASA_ would do that.

As she stood there in the oppressive morning sun with a trail of sweat making its way down the back of her neck, she couldn't help but wish the Space Agency had some sort of massive indoor facility with air conditioning and a stocked fridge.

But no such luck.

"Two shuttle teams. AJ'll be running the drill team with Oscar, Bear, and Noonan on the _Independence_. I'll run the drill team on _Freedom_ with Chick, Charlie, Rockhound, and Max. Once we land, we'll have eight hours to get the job done. In order to split this rock on the fault line, we're gonna have to drill to eight-hundred feet." Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and looked down towards her feet as Harry continued, "Let's get our game faces on. Now it's time for underwater simulations."

As she fell into step with the others as they headed back towards the buses, she couldn't help the feeling of relief that washed over her. She was on _Freedom_ —she was with Harry, Chick, Rockhound, and Max.

Sharp and Watts.

She didn't know what it was but knowing that the Colonel was going to be piloting the shuttle she was on made her feel better. While it was true she didn't know him all that well, apart from their one flight, she knew that he would do all he could to get them to the asteroid safely and then home again safely.

Not that Davis and Tucker _wouldn't_ , but…

Charlotte climbed up and into the bus, plunking herself down in the first available seat she came across. Sweeping her sunglasses up into her hair, she let out a breath when AJ threw himself down beside her with a grin on his face. "Too bad you're not on _Independence_ with us. I was kinda hopin' I'd get all the _younglings_ on my team. Old school versus new school."

"What _school_? We've all been doing the same job _the exact same way_ for years! Only difference is you don't do what you're told."

"Some might say that's a _gut instinct_ —"

"Or an over-inflated ego." She smiled at him, shaking her head. "Just do me a favor and do this all on the straight, ok? I just wanna get everyone through this, come home, drink seven bottles of wine, and pretend it never happened."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Only seven?"

"Yeah, I'm cutting back." AJ snorted a laugh and she said, "Seriously, though. We've never split up before, I need to know you guys are gonna be ok."

"Charlotte," She turned to look at him with wide eyes, not able to remember the last time he'd called her by her full name. She was so shocked by it that she didn't even notice him take hold of her right hand. "Everything is gonna be ok. We'll all make it through this, come back, and pile into the back of my pickup truck when we get our ticker tape parade. We'll all get hammered at the wedding, and hey, just watch, before you know it this'll all be a bad memory."

It took her only a second and a half to really _comprehend_ what he'd said and when she looked over at him and saw the grin on his face, she had to try very hard not to shout out loud. "You asked her? You _actually_ did it?"

"I did. Last night."

"And she said _yes_?"

"Don't sound so surprised."

Maneuvering in her seat she wrapped an arm around AJ's neck and drew him into a hug, smiling into his shoulder. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Charlie."

"I didn't even see the ring on her finger. Is she wearing it?"

They mutually broke the hug and AJ had a somewhat uneasy expression on face. "We kinda decided that until we can talk to Harry, y'know, all _official_ like, we're gonna keep it quiet." He shook his head. "There's way too much goin' on right now."

Charlotte wished she could say that the news of their engagement would be welcome news, that it was exactly the boost that everyone needed before the launch; and when it came to the majority of the crew, that's how it would be viewed. But she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Harry would _not_ view it that way.

When it came to Grace and the life he wanted her to have, or rather believed that she deserved, he was fanatical. He wanted her to marry a stand-up guy, someone who wore a suit to work every day and could give her a big house in the suburbs. And that was his right as her father, Charlotte knew that. But she also knew AJ and what kind of man he was capable of being if he would just get out of his own way. He just needed to be given the opportunity to show it.

"All the more reason for everyone to make it back." She couldn't help but give a cheeky smirk. "I'm sure everyone wants to be around to see the big man's face when you tell him."

Her words put a smile on AJ's face and that was her intention, but she'd put Vegas money down that Harry already knew.

When it came to her and Grace, he _always_ knew.

* * *

From her place in the observation room outside the dive tank, Charlotte sat quietly and watched the monitors as the newly-christened Independence team ran through the first simulation.

It was a truly bizarre thing to watch, really; her friends floating around in the big and bulky suits, divers hovering just out of eye-shot in case they were needed. The life-sized replica of the shuttle at the bottom of the tank had been retrofitted that day to support a full-size model of the rig, allowing them to practice nearly the entire mission—from attaching the first drill bit to hitting eight-hundred feet to dropping the nuke.

Harry, Sharp, and Truman were all sitting in front of a large bank of color monitors, watching the goings-on in the tank with stern eyes—Harry carefully watching every gauge, every reading, and every alarm that came up. While communications were audible through a speaker system in the room, Harry was the only one wearing a microphone. "Ok, guys, keep it tight. Gauges all look good, no active alarms. Keep going."

AJ's voice came booming through the speakers. _"Come on, Independence. Keep it up! Let's go! We're the younger team here. We're the varsity team. Take it to eleven-thousand."_

One of the technicians in the booth spoke up suddenly, "Ok, gentlemen, we're gonna trick them up. My computer will simulate a gas pocket at 625 feet and then hard iron ferrite at 635."

" _I'm gonna draw up some more O2 in. We're takin' her up."_

Harry grabbed his stopwatch as Bear said, _"I'm givin' it more torque right now."_

"Alright, lookin' good, Bear. Clamp it down. Watch your time, Independence team."

" _Thanks Harry. Would you mind letting me run my own team?"_

A glaring red flag went up for Charlotte at the unmistakable sound of overconfidence in AJ's voice and she sat forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees as she watched the monitors. She didn't even notice Sharp glancing back at her.

" _You're gonna blow the tranny, AJ—"_ Bear said suddenly. " _Slow it down, baby."_

" _Take it easy, Bear. Just relax. She can handle it."_

Harry leaned forward and rested his hands on the control panel, his eyes on AJ's form on the closest monitor. "AJ, you're at six-hundred feet. Your pipe is long. Let's back the RPMs down to eight-thousand—"

" _We don't have time for eight-thousand!"_

"AJ, take it back down. You're gonna snap the pipe. I don't wanna blow this transmission."

" _Dammit, eleven-thousand!"_

" _Slow it down, AJ."_

Oscar, who had been silent up until that point, spoke in a tone that surprised her. _"Bear, come on! Get on our team for a little bit."_

" _Harry, are you listening to this?"_

Quietly, Harry said, "Yeah, I'm listening, Bear."

" _Harry? You don't work for Harry anymore, ok? Out there you gotta listen to me. When we're on that rock, you gotta do what I say. Now send more to the turbine. I'm throttling it up to eleven-thousand."_

"AJ, back it off. You're gonna blow the transmission."

" _Hey, Harry, would you let me run my team, please?"_

Sharp checked a nearby gauge, "RPMs are at red line."

Harry uncharacteristically looked at Charlotte over his shoulder and he let out a breath, his eyes so full of frustration that she was amazed he wasn't screaming. She swallowed hard and nodded at him, "Keep on him, Harry. He's screwing up, keep on him."

" _Goddammit, I know what I'm doing. Come on! She can handle it. She'll be fine, trust me."_

"AJ, back the RPMs down—"

Sharp shook his head, "And transmission overload."

"Number one transmission is down."

Charlotte's heart sank as she sat there. There was an atmosphere in that room, amongst all of them that sat there, of such heavy disappointment that it was almost palpable in the air. It was a truly dreadful feeling.

There was so much riding on them, so many people depending on them…and they just couldn't get their shit together.

" _The computer's wrong and you know that. We did the right thing."_

With a look of uncertainty, hell, genuine _unhappiness_ , the Colonel looked to Harry. "If you wanna replace a member of the crew, now is the time."

Harry only acknowledged the other man's words by saying, "I'll take care of this." He keyed up his headset. "Get them outta the tank, Chick." And then he was gone, Charlotte staying rooted to her chair as he stomped his way out to the pool, his shoulders set in a manner that she recognized all too well.

And such was the way of things in their little universe.

She, or someone else on the crew, would ask AJ to do things the right way and take it seriously. AJ would promise that he would. Harry would laugh at the very idea of it, doubting AJ's maturity or willingness to be part of a _team_. And as always, when the chips were down, AJ would always find a way to prove Harry right.

And AJ wouldn't half-ass it, he would always prove Harry right in spectacular fashion.

It had happened so many times over the years that she should've known better than to expect anything else.

Finally standing from her chair, she moved to stand next to Sharp and watched on the nearest monitor as Harry crossed the pool deck, getting right in AJ's face as soon as he was close enough. "You wanna go home? Is that it? You wanna be fired?"

"No, I don't." AJ motioned to the guys still being lifted from the water—Oscar, Bear, and Noonan. "My crew was doing the right thing."

"Your crew? Your crew just blew the transmission, AJ!"

Truman nodded to both Sharp and Charlotte to follow him as he headed towards the door of the observation room, pulling off his headset as he went. The second the trio stepped out onto the deck, her eyes went immediately to Harry and AJ, who were still yelling at each other as everyone looked on.

"Listen, that NASA computer is just playing it safe. The machine you built, the rig, could do it!"

"Shut up. Just shut up—" Harry's hand flew up and he grabbed hold of AJ's suit, pulling their faces even closer together. "Shut your mouth! Those men in that room have zero tolerance for showin' off, _hot-doggin'_ , going by your gut instinct or you trying to be a hero, you got that?" When AJ said nothing, Harry yelled at him. "Say the words, AJ!"

"I got it!"

The two men stared each other down for a couple more seconds before Harry turned on his heel and walked away. All Charlotte could do was stand there, her arms crossed and her eyes on AJ—who must've felt the glare because he looked over at her and cockily met her eyes.

After a second, he said, "Don't look at me like that, Charlie. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Really? What were you thinking, forcing it like that?"

"You believe in that machine as much as I do, maybe even _more_ than I do. I thought you'd back me up."

"I _do_ believe in that machine, AJ; I know what Harry built, what it's capable of. But even _he_ was telling you to back it off—"

He let out a completely humorless laugh. "You can't separate your thoughts from his for even a single _second_ , can you? You like to think you're not like him, but you are. More than you know."

She could tell that the comment was _not_ complimentary. "What's that mean?"

"You _know_ what it means. I always make the call, I always get things right…not your _dad_ and sure as hell not _you_. You never take chances—"

"This isn't the time to take chances, AJ. Earlier, I _asked_ you to play things straight…to do things the right way. Did you even hear me?"

"Oh yeah, I heard you." One of the aids approached in an effort to start helping him out of the suit but AJ heatedly pushed him away. "But, guess what? _I'm_ leading the drill team on Independence. _I'm_ in charge. You'll be on Freedom where all you're good for is following orders. Let's see who gets the job done first. Me, or you and _daddy._ "

She would never give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words hurt her, she was determined to be stronger than that.

Without saying another word she turned around and pushed her way past Sharp and Truman, pulling her arm out of Chick's grasp when he tried to stop her. "Charlie—"

She threw open the door that led into the hallway and just started walking, not even noticing the loud _squelching_ noise the soles of her wet sneakers made against the shiny linoleum floors.

* * *

"I want my men to have tomorrow night off."

"What do you mean, off?"

"I mean, _off_. Out of here for at least ten hours. Then we'll go to Kennedy."

The three men walked side-by-wide through the narrow hallway and at Harry's words, Truman shook his head, "Well there's no possible way we can do that, Harry. There's a potentially huge security risk. What if they talk? What if they get hurt?"

"What if they're too burned out to do the right thing? What if they get up there and they forget what they're fighting for? You see what's goin' on in there, these guys are ready to snap. They didn't ask to be here. They got pulled off the street. For all we know, tomorrow night could be the last night they ever see Earth. I don't think it's too much to ask to let them spend it with their families."

They came to a slow stop and Truman had a non-believing smile on his face. "Well, listen, there's no possible—"

Harry looked to Sharp, who was standing there silent and with his arms crossed. "You got family, Colonel?"

He nodded. "Two girls."

"Wouldn't you like to spend tomorrow night with your little girls?"

Sharp said nothing but Harry could see that the man swallowed hard, and as a father, he knew what the Colonel's answer would be. There's nowhere else, in the entire world, he'd rather be than with his daughters…and all three of them knew it.

"I'm not askin' you. I'm _tellin'_ you. Make this happen."

The two of them stood there and watched as Harry Stamper walked away and the second he was out of earshot, Truman looked to the Colonel. "We can't do it, Will. And you know it."

"We can figure it out—"

"We can't do it."

The men and woman on Stamper's crew weren't the only ones ready to snap. If Will was any judge—and he knew that he was, having worked with Truman for so long—the executive director was on the verge of losing it, too.

It'd been ten days of insanity. Countless hours running around, making plans, and then trying to come up with _new_ plans when the old ones failed. Of all the missions Will had been on, all of them combined didn't even come close to what they were dealing with right then. He was usually as calm as anything when prepping for a mission but even he himself was having trouble sleeping and eating regular meals.

He had his training to rely on, the others didn't. Purely from a _human_ standpoint, giving them time to spend with their families made sense. Stamper was right. They needed a reminder. One that they could see and touch.

Watching as Truman paced back and forth, he spoke in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. "Dan, we'll send security with them; vehicles, armed escorts, hell, we'll fit them with _tracking anklets_ if we have to, but we need to do this."

"And if something happens to one of them? If there's an accident?"

"What's worse: replacing one guy at the last minute or losing all nine of them the second the shuttles clear the tower?" He shrugged his shoulders. "This can't be done without them and you know it. We've committed ourselves to this plan, to _them_. They've done right by us, don't we owe them the same?"

Truman let out a long measured breath and rubbed his hands down his face.

And it was then that Sharp knew he'd won.

* * *

She could hear the ruckus out in the hallway as the guys got ready to leave the base and Charlotte simply tucked a leg under herself, settling in at her desk for the evening.

The rest of the boys had decided to spend a night out in Downtown Houston, most of them being too far away from their families to be able to make the journey in the time they were given. Grace and AJ were going off somewhere, and after what had happened at the pool she wouldn't have wanted to go with them. And Chick was making the drive to Galveston to see his ex-wife, and hopefully, his son as well.

Since the only people she'd want to see had all made plans, she'd decided to stay in—a cup of tea and a Cinephile CD. That's how she was going to spend her second last night.

The door to her room sprang open and Oscar stuck his head in, knocking the brim of his cowboy hat on the door frame. It seemed to startle him because he jumped before reaching up to fix his hat. "You sure you don't wanna come, Charlie?"

"Sticking sweaty singles into some stripper's g-string? No thanks, I'd rather stay here."

"That's not _all_ we're gonna do, y'know."

"It's ok, Oz, you guys go ahead. I'm not really in the mood."

He leaned back against the door frame, sticking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans. "This about what AJ said? You know he didn't mean it. It's just..."

"It's not about that." She ran a hand through her long hair and sent him a tired smile. "I'm just tired, I feel like I haven't slept in days. I'm gonna try and get to bed early."

"Charlie—"

"Really, I'm ok." She nodded towards the hallway where she could see people gathering just behind where Oscar was standing. "You should get going, they're waiting on you."

After a second, he nodded. "We'll see you when we get back, ok?"

And then he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him.

Once the noise outside the room faded away she allowed herself to breathe, leaning against the back of her chair.

When she'd first decided to stay by herself that night, she hadn't been sure what she'd do with herself. Most of the staff that was associated with them had already left with the shuttles for Cape Canaveral, with the exception of Truman and Quincy, and as nice as they were, she didn't feel up to spending an evening with them.

No, she'd keep to herself. Listen to some comfort music, have a nice long shower…and that'd be it.

That suited her just fine.

* * *

He slammed his locker door closed and grabbed his duffel bag, meandering his way around the benches and countless other items that had been left behind that afternoon.

His watch told him it was a few minutes after six and he cursed to himself. He was already late.

 _You'd be late to your own funeral._

He _hated_ proving his sister right.

The dormitories were quiet as he strolled through the hallways. From what he'd heard, the crew had gone their separate ways that night—most of them going to a truly horrible strip bar a few miles off the base. He'd never been there himself but he'd heard the other pilots at Ellington talk about it enough over the years.

He didn't judge. If that's how they wanted to spend one of their final nights, then all the power to them.

Not him, though. Not his scene. There was somewhere else he'd rather be.

As he rounded the last corner, his ears picked up the soft sound of music drifting from down the hallway. It was a quiet and peaceful melody, one that he didn't recognize, and he couldn't help but follow it, curious to know who had stayed behind.

The dormitory that housed the drillers looked like a frat house; clothes, decks of cards, water bottles and a myriad of other items littered the floors and he took careful steps, not wanting to step in anything sticky.

The room at the far end of the hallway was the source of the music and he quietly approached the door, leaning close and listening.

He immediately knew whose room it was.

Scofield regularly smelled of coconut oil and sun tan lotion, and as he stood there, those two smells were practically wafting through the cracks of the door. Hesitating for only a second, he raised a hand and rapped on the door with one knuckle, surprised but not surprised when he heard her voice say, "Come in!"

He slowly pushed open the door, clearing his throat to announce himself before peeking in. And there, sitting at the desk in an oversized sweater and track pants was Scofield. "Hope I'm not disturbing you."

Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him but she politely shook her head. "No, Colonel, not at all. I'm surprised you're still here—didn't you make plans for tonight?"

Glancing at his watch, he said, "Yes I did…and I'm running late, as usual. What about you?"

"Strip bars aren't my thing. Let the men be men for tonight, I don't need to go."

"There's no one else you want to see?"

"My only family has been on this base the whole time, they're all I've got." She shrugged. "I don't know where Harry is, Grace and AJ are out somewhere. It's all good, I'm fine here."

The thought crossed his mind before he was even really aware of it and he didn't have time to talk himself out of it. He knew his family well, knew that they would welcome her with open arms and make her feel at home. There was no way he could walk out of there in good conscience and leave her behind, not with what was ahead of them. "Look, uh…feel free to say no, but my sister and her husband are putting on a bit of a spread at their place tonight, it's kind of a ritual before I go away." She looked completely flabbergasted but he ignored it, "There'll be steaks, free beer, good company."

He could tell from the look on her face that she truly didn't know what to say and for a second he was almost embarrassed.

It wasn't normal for him to bring people from work into his private life, with the exception of Davis. His fellow pilot had been over once or twice shortly before he and Melanie had broken up and had then been almost a permanent fixture in the years that followed. Davis had met both his little girls and Sharp had met his son.

But this was different.

He hadn't known Scofield or any of her cohorts for that long but he considered himself a relatively good judge of character. This girl was ok and he knew that bringing her to his family wouldn't come back to bite him.

On the contrary—they'd most likely love her and he'd do a good deed by getting her off the base.

She sent him a soft smile, "Colonel, I wouldn't wanna impose."

"No imposition. Knowing my sister, there will be more food than she knows what to do with." He looked at her and hoped she could see that he was being sincere. "We can take my truck, I won't be there too late."

She hesitated a second before asking, "Does your family know? The truth, I mean."

"No, they don't."

There was a flash of understanding in her green eyes and he felt himself letting out a breath.

He had wondered for days whether or not he should tell his family the truth, give them the opportunity to spend what could be their final days the way they wanted to. Knowing his sister, her and her husband would pack up their son and go to their cottage in Corpus Christi…spend their days playing in the sand, just being together.

It was a life that he'd lost out on, but he would never want to keep her from living it.

He realized quickly that she'd been watching him the entire time and he cleared his throat, glancing at his watch again. "If you're coming we have to leave now. If I'm too late, I'll never hear the end of it."

She stood from her chair and smiled, motioning to her track pants. "Give me five minutes to change."

 **END**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, the story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

She tried her best to keep up with him as he manoeuvred through the parking lot, in between the cars that had been left behind when the base had practically emptied an hour or so before.

It appeared that the crew hadn't been the only ones who had been given the night off and Charlotte would be lying if she said that that didn't make her feel better. They may have been taking the brunt of it but everyone that knew about their situation was just as troubled and deserved time off with their families, too, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

Sharp led her towards a large black pickup truck and pulled the keys from the pocket of his jeans, pointing her towards the passenger seat. She tried to be as graceful as possible as she hoisted herself up, not at all surprised to see that the inside of the truck was just as shiny and spotless as the outside.

This man was _compulsively_ clean, it seemed.

As he threw his duffel bag into the back seat she couldn't help but take a deep breath, smelling what was surely _him_ —a combination of leather, peppermint gum, and ivory soap. No aftershave or cologne…just something _masculine_. Something natural.

She was nearly grinning by the time he climbed in behind the wheel.

"So where are we headed?"

"Sheldon. It'll take about twenty minutes."

He started the engine and Lynyrd Skynyrd's _Freebird_ blasted from the speakers. He immediately reached down to switch if off but she said, "Please don't." He glanced over at her. "I like this song."

And he nodded, instead settling for turning the volume down to background noise, just enough that they could hold a conversation if they wanted to.

He pulled the truck out of the parking spot reserved for him and headed towards the armed security gate. As they came to a stop beside it, he grabbed the ID card that was hanging from his rear view mirror and lowered his window. The guard looked in at him and took the card, running it through a reader in his booth. "Got the night off, Colonel?"

It then occurred to her that not _everyone_ at NASA knew about what exactly their mission was.

It made sense, now that she was thinking about it. Technicians knew. Scientists. Doctors. Executives. Government officials. But the armed guard at the gate? He had no clue.

Sharp sent him a friendly but forced smile, slipping on his sunglasses. "Just a couple hours tonight, Marty. I'll be back later on."

"We'll be here." The guard sent a polite nod to Charlotte, which she returned. "Have a safe drive, sir."

The second the large metal gate slid open enough for the truck to fit through, they were off, Sharp making an easy left turn onto the main road that would lead them off the base.

Charlotte settled into the leather seat and watched out her window as the buildings flew past. She felt strange being outside the fences, free for the first time in almost two weeks. She felt like a fugitive from justice and that thought alone finally broke the smile free that she'd been holding in.

"Feels good to be out, doesn't it?"

His voice was unexpected and she startled, letting out a breath. She couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "Am I that obvious?"

"I just know the look—I've seen it a million times, had it myself a few million more." He rested one hand casually on the steering wheel and rested the other arm in the open window. The breeze blew relentlessly but she didn't care, gathering her hair up in her hands and holding it against her neck so it wouldn't tangle. "The base can feel like a prison sometimes. The air is always fresher outside the gates than on the inside."

"You'd think that I'd be used to it, being stuck in one place."

"The rig?"

She nodded, already feeling comfortable enough with the man to speak candidly with him. "You couldn't go anywhere unless you were on a boat, the only privacy you had was in your room…and even then, people were always coming and going. It was a floating asylum most of the time, but we always made the best of it."

"It makes a difference when you're with the right people."

"Well, people weren't trying to kill each other. I guess that's a good sign." He let out a very quiet laugh and she smiled at the sound of it. "What about the people you work with? I can tell you're close with Colonel Davis."

He glanced over at her quickly before looking back at the road. "We've known each other for a lot of years, helped each other through some tough times." After a second, he tentatively explained. "I went through a divorce about three years ago and it was a hard adjustment for me. Davis was my friend, I owe him a lot."

"He helped you though it?"

"Let's just say that my reaction to all of a sudden being on my own after so long wasn't good. He talked some sense into me, helped me focus on what mattered."

"He sounds like a good man."

Sharp nodded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel for a second before relaxing his hand again. "He is."

 _Freebird_ faded out and was replaced with _Call Me The Breeze._ She couldn't help it, she started taping her foot along to the beat. "So you said that this is a ritual before you go away? Dinner at your sister's?"

"Yeah, it's something that my mother started doing when I first joined the Air Force, and then after she passed away, my sister took over."

They merged onto the 90 and started heading East, immediately passing a sign that said 'HUNTERWOOD'. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been out that way, in fact, she didn't know if she ever _had_ been.

"And you're sure she won't mind me coming?"

"She won't mind. My sister is a born hostess, believe me, it'll be fine." The sun had set enough that he was able to take off his sunglasses and he tossed them up onto the dash before looking over at her with bright eyes. "I know it's none of my business but I wanted to tell you. About what Frost said to you today, don't let it get to you. I don't know him all that well but I don't think he meant it."

"Thank you but I know him _very_ well and I think he meant every word."

"Him and Harry got a real problem, huh?"

"Ever since he started sleeping with Grace, yeah."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sharp glance at her again but he stayed silent, which she was very grateful for. She turned her head and looked out her window, watching cars and countryside fly past.

According to the digital clock on the dash it was a few minutes after six-thirty when they finally pulled up in front of a quaint little house on tiny street called Blairwood Drive. There were a couple of cars already in the driveway so Will was forced to park his truck on the street, cutting the engine just as Charlotte was climbing out.

It was a typical subdivision in suburbia—a perfectly manicured lawn, kids on bicycles, men washing their cars. There was laughter in the air and when Sharp made his way around the truck, motioning for her to follow him, she couldn't help but smile.

It was so _normal._

He took the front steps two at a time and didn't even bother ringing the doorbell, simply letting himself in. "Hello!" His voice rang out in the foyer and there was an instant response, the voices of at least five people calling out to him. The second she was inside, he reached around her and pushed the door closed.

There was the distinct smell of steak marinade in the air and she could practically feel her stomach growling.

A woman of average height with long shoulder length brown hair and startling blue eyes came walking down the hallway, a big smile on her face. "About time you got here."

They shared a hug and Sharp placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before holding a hand out to Charlotte. "Julia, this is a colleague of mine…Charlotte Scofield. Charlotte…this is my sister Julia."

Julia immediately sent her one of the warmest and most welcoming smiles she'd ever seen and took hold of her hand, wrapping it in both of hers. "It's so nice to meet you, Charlotte. We're so glad you could come. Please, come right in and make yourself at home." She nodded at her brother. "Will knows where everything is, help yourself to whatever you'd like."

"Thank you so much."

Julia nodded and then looked at Will, saying, "I called Melanie this afternoon to invite the girls. She said she didn't know if they could make it but they'd try." She frowned. "She asked how long you were going to Florida for, but you didn't say when we spoke earlier—"

"Thanks for trying, I'll call them in the morning before I leave."

Charlotte couldn't help but blink and before she could stop herself, she said, "Girls?"

Will looked slightly embarrassed and said, "Yeah, my daughters."

"You have kids?"

Julia rolled her eyes and gently slapped her brother's upper arm. "Will doesn't tell anyone anything, he's too private for his own good sometimes—"

He sighed, "Jules, please don't start."

"Shut up, Will," She grabbed hold of Charlotte's arm and led her further into the house, down the hallway and into the busy kitchen. Charlotte could feel the Colonel right behind them and was thankful he was there, feeling slightly terrified and wondering why she'd agreed to this in the first place. "Everyone, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!"

The group of people in the kitchen immediately reacted to seeing Sharp and they practically surrounded him, the women hugging him and the men shaking his hand.

One man, that Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion was Julia's husband, said, "We didn't think you'd ever get here. You almost forfeited your steak, man."

"Is that homemade marinade?"

The man looked disgusted. "What _else_ would we use, _store_ _bought_?"

"Then keep your hands off." They laughed and Sharp leaned over to her, speaking into her ear—she tried to ignore the shiver that traveled down her spine when she felt his breath against the side of her face. "Try to relax and make yourself at home, ok?"

She nodded and sent him a smile over her shoulder.

Julia spoke up, "Everyone, this is Charlotte…Will's friend. Charlotte, this is my husband, Brian—" The man that had joked about the steaks and who was carrying said steaks on a large platter walked over and carefully shook her hand. Sharp's Aunt Kathy was at the sink, washing lettuce leaves…his uncle Gary was sitting at the table…and last but not least was Will's nephew, Adam, just as tall as his uncle but with dark brown eyes.

All in all, they seemed like a wonderful family. But she couldn't deny that she was surprised at how genial they all were, considering how stern Sharp had always seemed to be.

It was just an example of how different people from different families could be products of their long-term environment. Sharp may have grown up in what she assumed was a warm household, but he never would've survived as long as he had in the Air Force, or reached his current rank, without sobering up a little bit.

It took her a little while to really get comfortable in the house, constantly aware of her mission commander sitting at the same table.

His family, however, seemed to be _instantly_ comfortable with her and had proceeded to try and get her life story; starting with where she was born, where she'd gone to school, and how long she'd been in the astronaut program. She was about to answer the final question honestly and say ' _only about two weeks'_ but Sharp spoke first, explaining that she was a geological consultant that NASA had hired on a contractual basis.

She was thankful that he'd at least kept her a geologist, at least she'd be able to speak about it intelligently at the dinner table.

Once the steaks were barbequed, the salads—both Caesar and potato—were chilled, and the wine had been poured, they moved out onto the back patio, taking their seats at a large glass table underneath a beige-colored umbrella. Otis Redding's _Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay_ played quietly in the background.

That had been one of her mother's favorite songs when she was little.

She swallowed the emotion down, taking a small sip of her wine.

"What a truly interesting job you have, though, Charlotte. Working at NASA. And you're so young, too!" Kathy laughed, shaking her head. "I remember when Will first started there, I found it all so fascinating. Still do, as a matter of fact."

Setting her wine glass down, Charlotte nodded. "It's definitely an interesting place. I never thought I'd be spending time there, it was always just a place I'd heard about on TV."

Everyone chuckled lightly, the sound of clinking knives and forks filling the air. "Do you think you'll ever go to space yourself? Being a consultant, you never know."

 _Well, actually, I'm traveling to space the day after tomorrow._

"It hasn't come up yet, but, here's hoping."

Sharp's uncle Gary swallowed a mouthful of steak and addressed his nephew. "How about you, Willie? Any idea when you're goin' up again?"

"Not too sure yet. Maybe sometime next year, once we see how the budget washes out."

Charlotte had a feeling that if their mission was a success, NASA would never have to worry about budget troubles again.

"Well, let your Aunt and I know. We'll go and watch the launch since we missed the last one."

Sharp, who had just eaten a forkful of salad, simply nodded. After a second he looked to Adam, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "So tell me what's been going on with you. How's school?"

Adam bobbed his head respectfully, setting his fork down. "It's been ok, busy. College applications are due soon."

"Where you thinking you wanna go?"

"Well, Houston is closest…has some good programs—"

Julia interrupted, as mothers often did during such conversations. "He wants to go to _Dallas_."

"What's wrong with Dallas?"

"It's too far away, over _four_ hours."

Adam's face reddened slightly as he said, "Yeah, mom, that's kinda the point."

Everyone at the table laughed, with the exception of Julia who just looked ill.

Squeezing Adam's shoulder affectionately, Sharp said, "Finding the program you want is just the beginning. Research the schools, look into what other things they offer on campus; sports teams, clubs, fraternities, things like that. Make sure you get the most out of wherever you go."

Brian, who up until that moment had stayed quiet, looked to Charlotte. "You went to Houston, Charlotte, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"We'd love to hear your opinion, if you'd like to share it."

Stalling for time to think, she needlessly adjusted the napkin draped across her lap before saying, "A lot of really unique programs, the professors were amazing; really hands on, which made the difference for me. I need to do more than just read books and they work with students directly to help them learn. It was great."

"And you majored in Geology?"

She nodded, "And minored in Geophysics."

"Geophysics? What's that?"

"It's a branch of natural science that centers on using quantitative methods to analyze the physical properties of the Earth's environment; things like gravity, electromagnetic waves, radioactivity." She nearly laughed at the bewildered expression on his face but managed to hold it in, instead saying, "It's truly fascinating."

After a second Brian shook his head, "Guess I'm more of an _artistic_ soul. I never had the mind for science."

"Have you ever studied volcanoes?"

Charlotte looked over towards Adam and nodded, unable to stop from smiling when she saw the smile on _his_ face. He was intrigued but she felt that it was more than just a garden-variety interest. Maybe there was a future geologist sitting at that table? Oscar would've lost his mind; he loved _converting_ people to Earth science. It was one of his favorite pastimes besides riding his horse and listening to Hank Williams records. "I have. I spent some time in Hawaii, in and around Kilauea—"

"One of the most active volcanoes in the world."

She grinned at him. "Yes, that's right."

Kathy reached over and placed a hand on Adam's arm. "Sounds like you have a mind for this stuff, Adam—unlike your father." Brian made an exaggerated ' _ha ha'_ face which she ignored. "Maybe you should look into it? You've always had a passion for that kind of thing, you might enjoy a program like that."

" _Volcanology._ The University of Hawaii has a program that comes highly recommended, a friend of mine is a volcanologist and that's where she studied. Oregon State and University of Washington offer it as well, but I'm not as familiar with those programs. You'd have to start with Geology and branch out from there, if I remember correctly."

It felt strange sitting there with the Colonel's family and speaking about the future as if it was guaranteed, a sure thing. The truth was she didn't know what would happen over the next couple of days and she couldn't help but feel guilty as she sat there, offering advice to a young man who wouldn't live to see his high school graduation if they failed.

The reality of the burden they carried was all of a sudden alive and full of hope, full of dreams and plans for a successful future. It had been personified in a way she hadn't expected. She'd gone from thinking of it as a nameless faceless mass of people…to an eighteen year old boy.

Whatever words she was going to speak next caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. Sharp seemed to notice her sudden discomfort because he mercifully changed the subject to a topic that allowed her to gracefully stay silent, staring down at her plate and trying to keep from getting upset in front of everyone.

When the last bits of food were gone from their plates and the sun had set in the sky, everyone slowly stood and went about clearing the table. Charlotte moved to stand and help but Kathy shook her head. "No, you and Will stay here, dear. You're a guest." She nodded to everyone else, to the group noisily disappearing into the house. "We'll take care of it."

As Kathy walked away, somehow balancing what looked like every dinner plate in her arms, Sharp leaned over. "You alright?"

She let out a long breath and raked a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's ok—"

"Really, I'm fine. Just kinda hit me, that's all."

He didn't say a word, he simply reached for her wine glass and held it out to her. When she quirked an eyebrow at him he said, "It'll steady your nerves."

"You trying to get me drunk?"

"No, I'm trying to get your hands to stop shaking." He held out the glass again. "Take a drink."

And she did so obediently, taking a small sip of the expensive white wine.

At that moment, Julia came back outside with the cordless phone in her hands. "Will, Melanie's on the phone."

He took the phone quickly and held it up to his ear, "Hey Mel." Charlotte took another sip of wine, trying not to pay attention or _appear_ like she was paying attention. He let out a breath and said, "No, I understand, I know it was last minute."

She glanced over at him and could see the disappointment in his eyes. His daughters weren't coming.

He was going into space in two days. He could die, hell, _they could all_ die.

And his daughters weren't coming.

A wave of affection crashed over her and without even thinking about it she reached forward and covered his hand with hers. He didn't pull away or flinch. He didn't move at all.

She briefly wondered if he'd tell his ex-wife the truth, the _whole_ truth about what was going on and how serious it was. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had, he was a father after all. Everyone else had been given the chance to say their goodbyes and recharge their batteries, so to speak. He should've been allowed the same opportunity.

But he didn't say a word.

"I'll be there a couple days, it's not a big deal. I'll see them when I get back." There was a short pause and then he said, "Have fun in El Paso. Say hi to Martin and Gayle for me."

She squeezed his hand as he ended the call, setting the phone down on the surface of the table. In a quiet voice, she said, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." He leaned back in his chair. "But it's ok. They'll be at her parents' place and they'll be happy, that's how I want them."

"I bet they'd be really proud of you."

Sharp smiled softly and looked over at her. "I hope so."

Julia appeared in the doorway and her eyes immediately went to their joined hands. Charlotte was sure that he would pull away from her, sever the connection the second they were under the watchful gaze of his sister; but he either didn't care or completely forgot because he did nothing. After a second, she pulled her eyes away and asked, "Are they coming?"

"No, they're heading to El Paso for a couple of days. Melanie said she couldn't change the plans."

Julia's eyes surprisingly enough narrowed. "You should be able to see your kids—"

"Julia, please don't."

"She's not playing by the rules and you know it, Will."

He pulled his hand out of Charlotte's hold and held it up to his sister, his voice taking on a slightly firmer tone. "We're not talking about this. Not tonight. She's their mother, she's allowed to make plans if she wants to."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment and then Julia let out a breath, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't interfere."

"You're not interfering, but it is what it is."

She leaned against the wooden frame and crossed her arms, her eyes now sympathetic. "You ok?"

"I'm fine, Julia, really. I'll see them when I get back."

Charlotte was almost astonished at how well the distortion of their situation left his lips. There was absolutely no indication of what must've been the turbulent emotions swelling inside him at the prospect of not seeing his daughters before the launch—there was no flashes in his eyes, no trembling in his voice, no change in his body language. He appeared calm and collected, as he always did.

If Julia sensed something in him she chose not to mention it. She instead looked to Charlotte and cleared her throat somewhat sheepishly, saying, "I'm sorry, Charlotte. I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, not at all. I understand."

The two women shared a smile.

Glancing down at his watch, Will slowly stood from his chair. "I'm sorry to eat and run, Julia, but we should probably get going. We have a big day tomorrow."

"Are you sure? You know you can stay longer. Kathy has an apple pie in the oven—"

"I wish we could but we've got to get back. I've got tons of paperwork to finish before tomorrow morning." Sharp made his way around the table and pulled his sister into a hug, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Thanks for dinner."

They pulled apart and Julia smiled somewhat sadly at him. "I know that you won't tell me what's going on and that's ok, I won't ask—" He started to move away from her but she tightened her grip on him, her voice remaining gentle. "But I _know_ that _something_ is going on. I know you far too well. Just promise me something?"

"What?"

"That you'll be careful. That you'll come home."

Charlotte felt like an intruder witnessing such a moment and when Sharp pulled his sister into another hug, whispering the words ' _I promise_ ' into her shoulder, she felt even worse.

Julia looked over at her and smiled. "That goes for you, too, Charlotte. I imagine wherever he's going, you're going with him?"

She didn't know what to say so she looked to the Colonel for guidance. He seemed to understand the silent question in her eyes because he nodded, as if to say _go ahead_. "Yes, I am."

"So that's why he brought you here."

She didn't say the words with sarcasm or malice, it was simply a declaration.

Charlotte had a feeling that it wasn't everyday Will Sharp brought someone home to meet his family, especially a someone of the _female_ persuasion. She hadn't said anything at the time but she'd noticed the surprised looks the family had given her when they'd realised he hadn't come alone. There'd been questions in their eyes; they'd wondered who this stranger was, this person that their private Will had deemed exceptional enough to bring with him.

She shifted slightly from foot to foot and Julia shook her head, still smiling, "Don't be uneasy, please. I'm happy that you came."

Returning the smile, Charlotte said, "Me too."

And she meant it.

The goodbyes that were shared inside the front door were heartfelt and loud, everyone clamouring to get their hands on Will and wish him luck in Florida. While it was obvious that it was only Julia that suspected anything was amiss, it was also obvious that there was a great deal of love in that room.

She experienced it firsthand when each of his relatives hugged her as well, wishing her luck in the job they didn't know she didn't have. But the thought was there, just the same.

She would take that luck with her and hope that it would do some good, maybe change things for the better. It couldn't hurt, after all.

The two of them made their way down to Sharp's truck quickly and climbed in the second the doors were unlocked. He started the engine and as they pulled away from the curb, he gave a quick honk of the horn as a means of saying goodbye to the family members that were still standing out on the front porch.

And then they were gone, Sharp switching on the headlights as he directed the truck towards the freeway.

The silence between them was a comfortable one and she could tell that Sharp was lost in his thoughts. She could understand that and so she remained silent, settling down into her seat for the twenty-minute drive back to the base.

Truth be told, her own thoughts were muddled as well.

How could they not be?

According to the clock on the dash it was just a couple of minutes past eleven o'clock, which meant she'd spent over five hours with this man and his family. What did that mean? Did it mean _anything_? Was it a kind gesture between two people that were both scared but didn't want to admit it out loud? Because admitting it made it real. Or was it something else? She didn't know and she wasn't going to ask. She already felt insanely juvenile around him, she wasn't going to make it worse.

 _You've known him for almost two weeks, Charlie_.

Grace and idiot-AJ were the love story of their little drama. And a drama only needed one.

She was so lost in her own musings that when Sharp's voice broke through the silence, she very nearly startled. "I hope you had a good time. I know it's probably not how you would've wanted to spend tonight, but—"

"I had a lot of fun." She looked over at him in the darkness of the truck and her breath caught slightly at his eyes, which were sparkling in the dim light from the dash. "Thank you for bringing me, I know it was a bigger deal than you let on before."

"I didn't want to leave you by yourself. These next couple nights are far too important to spend alone."

 _Ok, fine, immaturity be damned._ "Was that the only reason?"

"The only reason?"

"Yeah, was not wanting me to be alone the only reason you brought me with you?"

He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel before saying, in a somewhat clipped voice, "Isn't that reason enough?"

"I don't know, is it?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"That depends. Do you always avoid questions you don't wanna answer?"

He looked over at her again and said, "What is it you want me to say?"

"I don't know. I don't really care at this point, I just want you to say _something_." She shifted in her seat so that she was facing him. "Is it typical for mission commanders, Air Force Colonels, to bring crew members home with them for a family dinner?"

"You know that it's not."

"Honestly, I don't know anything. All I know is that I met you almost two weeks ago, your first name is Will, and you're an astronaut with seemingly indestructible principles. You have an ex-wife that you talk to only because you have to and two daughters that you _absolutely_ adore but never get to see." She shrugged her shoulders. "Anything else?"

"You wanna know what I know about you?" They locked eyes for a second before he looked away, his voice rising slightly in the confined space. "You're a twenty-six year old geologist and oil driller, who against what I'm sure was every survival instinct you had, agreed to join a mission that for all intents and purposes is doomed to failure. You _voluntarily_ surround yourself with men that you refer to as your family, but they would rather spend the night at a strip bar than with you. You're intelligent… _beyond_ intelligent, actually…but you try to act like you aren't. _Especially_ when you're around your family. Do they even know that you scored among the highest in your graduating class at Houston?" When she didn't say anything, he continued on. "Don't even get me _started_ on your SAT scores. Based on those alone you should be making ten times the money at the USGS. I know your IQ, your birth-date, that you had asthma as a child…I even know about the bird-silhouette tattoo you have on your left shoulder. I know all these things because I've been reading your files every night since you got here." The sudden turn of his words caught her completely by surprise and she was openly staring at him, her breath caught in her chest. After a second he shook his head and let out a humourless laugh. "And I know that I wanna know you. Maybe _that_ was the reason I brought you with me tonight."

The overwhelming desire to grab him washed over her but she forced herself to stay in her seat, settling instead for taking hold of his right hand which was resting on the centre console in between them. She held it tightly and intertwined their fingers, using her other hand to rub his arm through his jacket.

And after a minute or two of silence where she allowed him the time to regain control of his stoicism, she whispered to him, "Thank you, Will."

He didn't say _you're welcome_ or nod at her.

He said nothing.

He did the one thing she would never expect him to.

He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it.

After a second, he said, "I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"They won't be." She could hear the confidence in her own voice and wasn't surprised when he looked over at her, a hint of doubt in his eyes. "I'm serious, it won't be awkward. I don't see how they could be."

"And Harry?"

"I'll deal with Harry. Let's just get through the next couple days, ok?"

They pulled up to the security gate at the Space Center just before midnight and Will did the same thing as before, handing the armed guard his pass and waiting for him to swipe it. As the guard handed it back, he said, "Mr. Truman has been waiting for you to get back, Colonel. He's asked that you report to his office as soon as possible."

He nodded, "Thanks, Marty." and drove into the parking lot, wasting no time in pulling into his parking spot and cutting the engine.

As she slid out of her seat and walked around to meet him, she said, "Do you think something has happened?"

He grabbed her hand and they started walking quickly, manoeuvring their way through the now-packed parking lot. Whatever _had_ happened had brought almost every single tech back to the base, with the exception of those that had already left for Kennedy. He increased their pace, glancing back at her to make sure she was able to keep up. "Yeah, I do. They don't call everyone back like this unless they absolutely have to."

They crossed the doorstep of the main building, the two guards inside the door saluting Will respectfully as they flew past. "You're going to have to walk back by yourself, I have to head in the opposite direction."

And without waiting for her to respond he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering a few seconds longer than what was expected.

And then he was gone, making his way down the hallway with an authority in his step that she had definitely come to associate with him over those two weeks.

The smile slowly faded from her face as she watched him go, her mind buzzing with all the possibilities of what had gone wrong that evening. Maybe the mission had been cancelled, maybe the asteroid was moving faster than they anticipated and had already crossed the threshold for Zero Barrier, making their trip meaningless…

Feeling slightly nauseated, she turned and headed towards the dormitories.

* * *

The parking lot had been a very good indication of the chaos that was going on inside the Space Center as he made his way from where he'd left Charlotte to Truman's office over in administration.

People were bustling around and the noise level was staggering.

It was panic.

The people at NASA were _panicking_.

Truman's office door was already open and he didn't even wait to be invited in before entering the room, immediately asking, "What happened?"

"There was a meteor strike in Shanghai tonight. Fifty-thousand people were killed." Truman spoke quietly and Sharp felt his breath hitch as he took a seat. "The mission parameters have changed, we no longer have the luxury of secrecy. The whole world knows."

"Everything?"

"The details of the mission haven't been released yet but I've scheduled a press conference for tomorrow, early evening. The President will be speaking as well."

"What do you need from me?"

"Do what you can to make sure that the team stays focused and that they're ready to go first thing. At Ellington for nine, you'll go through your last minute prep and brief, wheels up for the Cape at three-thirty."

"Yes, sir."

"We need to keep our composure and get this done. Every eye in the world is on us now."

There was an undercurrent of remorse in the executive director's voice and Sharp picked up on it immediately, leaning forward in his chair. "Keeping it a secret was the right thing to do, Dan. All hell would've broken loose in every major city in every country in the world. This isn't your fault."

The older man smiled a truly _exhausted_ smile. "I appreciate that. How's Julia doing?"

Sharp let out a breath, making the connection that if the world knew…so did his sister. Her words as they'd hugged on the patio came screaming back to him— _I know that something is going on, promise me that you'll come home_ —and he had to clear his throat before speaking again. "She's good."

"Did Charlotte have a good time?"

The question was a polite one and even though Sharp knew he wasn't being reprimanded for taking her home with him—quote, un-quote—he couldn't help but look down at his hands and stay silent. Truman chuckled lightly, "Now, Will, you know that Marty is a gossip." Sharp looked up and couldn't help but smile lightly in return as Truman shook his head, "Sometimes this place feels more like a frat house than anything else."

"Nothing happened."

"It wouldn't be any of my business even if it had. Not anymore." He stood from his chair and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. "Make sure you get a good night's sleep tonight, Colonel, I think we're all going to need it."

Sharp had known the man long enough to recognise a dismissal when he heard one and he quickly stood from his chair.

 **END**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, the story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

Thank you so much to those that have reviewed! I write because I love it, but it's always nice to know that there are people enjoying my stories. Hope you like the chapter!

Also, slight language warning here. I dropped the dreaded "F" bomb once.

* * *

She wrapped a towel around the ends of her hair and squeezed out the excess water, feeling a thousand times better now that she was finally clean. She could already feel her tense muscles starting to relax and was incredibly thankful for it. The next morning was going to be difficult enough as it was, she didn't need to add to it by having a broken sleep or sore joints.

Even if she only slept for a couple of hours, a short and deep sleep was better than nothing.

Harry had called them all into the hallway almost immediately after she'd gotten back, almost as if he'd been waiting for her. First, he'd told off the rest of the crew for their debauchery at the strip club…and then he'd updated them on the latest round of bad news; the meteor in Shanghai and the fact that they were now headline news, as was the asteroid itself. The shroud of mystery was gone and they'd been thrown headfirst into the spotlight, whether they were ready for it or not.

 _The whole world knew._

It was a terrifying notion.

Her existence had never meant very much, in the grand scheme of things—as her grandmother had once said, she was but one Cheerio in the bulk box of life. But with the tragedy that had taken place half-way around the world just a couple of hours before, her name, as well as the names of her family, would be out in the open for everyone to know.

It was only a matter of time, really.

She was in the middle of pulling back the blankets on her bed when there was a quiet knock on her door. She crossed the room quickly and pulled the door open, freezing in place when she saw Will standing there.

He looked at her for a second before saying, "So I'm guessing you've heard."

"Yeah, Harry told us a little while ago." She held the door open and motioned him inside. He ducked by her quickly, removing his leather jacket and draping on the back of her desk chair. "What did Truman say?"

"He's holding a press conference tomorrow evening, after we land in Florida. The President will be speaking at the White House, too. Nothing has been confirmed yet…not _officially_ , anyway…and the media, as they often do, are making up their own story. People are panicking."

"Can't blame them."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his face passive. His _eyes_ however told the real story; there was anxiousness and upset in those blue depths, a sign that his finite control was starting to slip. "I guess it was a long shot, hoping that we could get this done without anyone knowing."

Tossing the damp towel down onto her bed, she started towards him. "Maybe it's for the best. Maybe everyone deserves to know the truth." She placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't _you_ wanna know?"

"Yeah, I know I would."

"Then don't worry about it. We'll still leave tomorrow, we'll still launch at six-thirty on Tuesday. Whatever is gonna happen is _still_ gonna happen, whether people know the truth or not."

"You really think it's that simple?"

"I don't think any of this is meant to be simple," She picked up the towel and moved around him, going back into the bathroom. Hanging it on a hook behind the door, she switched off the light. "We both need to try and sleep, we'll feel terrible tomorrow if we don't."

Charlotte knew exactly what she wanted to ask him but she was afraid, embarrassed, to say the words out loud.

She was afraid that he'd say no, that he'd think she was childish or that she was reading more into their situation than what was really there. And maybe she _was_ guilty of those things, but that didn't change the fact that she didn't want to spend what could very well be her last two nights on Earth by herself.

"Do you want me to stay?"

His quiet words made her eyes widen and she couldn't help but stare at him, her mouth popping open. He shook his head and casually kicked off his shoes, pushing them under her desk with his foot. "I don't want to be alone, either."

"Will, really, it's ok—"

"Do you want me to stay or not?" His question wasn't forceful or heated…it was simply a question. He was asking her what she wanted, even though she was sure he already knew.

She wanted someone there with her, someone she could sit with and sleep next to. Someone she could wake up with in the morning who knew exactly what she was going through.

She wasn't looking for anything more than that.

She silently answered his question by crossing the room and switching off the overhead light before walking over to him and pulling him into a hug. He responded immediately and wrapped his arms around her, all but burying his face into her still damp hair.

The smitten twenty-six year old in her was glad she had used what she'd had left of her favorite shampoo.

 _Coconut oil never failed._

And after a minute or two of just standing there holding each other, they made themselves comfortable on her bed—Will lying on his back and Charlotte curled up beside him, her head resting on his chest. She could hear his strong heartbeat and she couldn't help but sigh, feeling even more relaxed when he turned his head and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Try and get some sleep," he whispered against her skin. "I'll be here in the morning."

And those words alone were enough to lull her into the first dreamless sleep she'd had since arriving there two weeks before.

In fact, when he gently woke her the following morning, she was so comfortable all she wanted to do was settle further into the sheets. They were warm and smelled like ivory soap—just like Will—and the last thing she wanted was to get up and pad across the cold floor.

It took her a moment to remember where she was and what she was going to be doing that day, and when it all came rushing back to her, she almost had a panic attack. She forced herself to take a deep breath, finding a strange comfort in watching Will slide from the bed and stand up, stretching his arms above his head. She swallowed hard and spoke in a somewhat scratchy voice, "What time is it?"

"Little after seven." She heard him inhale deeply before he said, "I have to head back and have a shower, get some things together. You gonna be alright by yourself for a bit?"

She propped herself up on one elbow. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm gonna have a shower, too."

"Don't forget to pack some extra clothes, you'll need them when we get to the Cape."

"Do I need anything else?"

"Your patience. It's going to be a long day."

As she worked on climbing out of bed, Will bent down and grabbed his shoes from under the desk. She didn't even hesitate in hugging him from behind and he responded by resting his hands on her arms, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Look, uh…about me staying here last night—"

She shook her head against his back and cuddled into him. "Let's talk about it when we get back, ok?"

As gently as possible, he pulled himself out of her embrace and turned to look at her, barely able to hold in a smile at her messy hair and droopy eyes. "Go get in the shower, wake yourself up. I'll see you on the bus." He stood and watched as she ambled into the bathroom, not even completely closing the door. The bright bathroom light switched on and he heard her groan in misery before the shower started, the sound of the water hitting the bottom of the tub filling the room.

He stood there for another second taking a quick look around the room; his wallet was still sitting on the desk, along with his ID card and his cell phone. He'd been ignoring calls since the night before, since the moment he'd walked into Truman's office and found out that their DOTTIE had officially made her way onto the international news.

He considered just turning the damn thing off, seeing as how he wouldn't be allowed to take it with him to Kennedy, but he knew without even looking at it that he'd have missed calls from his sister and possibly his ex-wife. While the mission itself was still a secret, as well as the names of the people involved, the women in his life knew far too much for their own good. There'd be no doubt in their minds who would be in the path of the tornado, who's name would be at the top of the list for such a mission.

And when he picked the phone up and flipped it open, he was proven correct.

Nine missed calls from Melanie. Twelve from Julia. Plus, an additional _three_ from his nephew.

He snapped the phone closed and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans, choosing to ignore it for the time being. After all, there wasn't much he could do so early in the morning.

Grabbing his leather jacket from where it was draped on the desk chair he threw it over his arm and crossed the room, pulling the door open quietly…

…and very nearly started.

Standing there with an arm raised, as if he'd been just about to knock…was Harry.

The older man's eyes widened and Sharp stared right back at him, knowing that the circumstances looked _horrible_ ; especially with the sound of the shower clearly audible from the bathroom.

What followed were some of the _longest_ seconds that Will could remember and when he spoke, he did so in a measured voice. "I know it looks bad but it's not what you think." Harry remained silent, his only movement was lowering his arm back down to his side. Will noticed that his hands were clenched into fists. "I don't have time to explain right now, but I promise you that we will."

And he pushed his way through, heading down the hallway and feeling an angry pair of eyeballs boring a hole into the back of his head as he went.

* * *

With only twenty minutes until he was due downstairs, he picked up his phone and flipped it open. Not wanting to risk waking up his daughters he chose to call Julia, waiting patiently as the phone rang. She must've been either waiting for or expecting his call because she answered after only two rings. " _Will?"_

"Yeah, it's me."

" _Jesus Christ, what's going on? The news is saying that the President is going to be talking later, that there's an asteroid and it's going to hit us. A fucking asteroid!"_

"Jules—"

" _I knew something was going on when you were here last night, I just knew it. Why didn't you_ talk _to me?"_

There was panic and anger in her voice and he let out a breath, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of his still-made bed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I couldn't. There's going to be a press conference at six o'clock tonight, they'll explain everything then."

" _Just tell me, are you going to space?"_

"Yeah, two shuttles are launching tomorrow night." He could hear her shuddering breathing and could tell she'd been crying so he spoke quickly. "Jules, listen, I don't have much time. I need you to do me a favor. Later on this morning, call Melanie and tell her to watch the press conference. I can't take my phone with me and I need her to know what's going on."

" _What am I supposed to say to her, Will? What's she supposed to tell the kids?"_

He hesitated for a second, running a hand down his tired face. "Tell her that I'm sorry. And tell the kids that I love them and I'll be home soon." She immediately started sobbing but he spoke over her. "I need you to listen to me, ok? We've got a plan and we're going to fix this."

" _And what if you can't?"_

He didn't know what to say to that so he chose to ignore it _._ "If you need anything over the next couple of days or have any questions, call that emergency line I gave you; identify yourself as my sister and they'll help you with whatever you need."

" _I want to come to Florida. We're going to drop Adam off at Aunt Kathy's and start driving, that way we'll be there when you land."_

He wanted to tell her that splitting up wasn't a good idea; that if she was truly determined to make the drive from Texas, they should bring their son with them. No matter what the end result of their mission was, whether it be a celebration of their success or a lament of their failure, at least they would all be together.

"Bring him with you, Julia. Don't leave him behind. He's an adult, at some point you're going to have to start treating him like one, ok?" He glanced at the alarm clock— _8:51._ "I have to go. Please remember to call Melanie and I'll see you when I get back. I love you guys and be safe."

She let out a watery cry. _"Love you, too."_

And he snapped the phone closed, tossing it down onto the bedspread.

Will Sharp wasn't one to let his emotions get the better of him. He'd been trained, harshly, to stay calm and collected in the face of catastrophe. But when it came to his family, the people he cared about most in the world, he could be an emotional powder-keg just like anyone else.

When he started to feel the familiar sting behind his eyes, he did what he could to shake it off quickly.

Standing from his bed, he grabbed his duffel bag and took one last look around, practically committing the room to memory. That room had been his home for the better part of three years and even though he was trying to be as positive as possible, he had a niggling feeling that he was never going to set foot in it again.

 _8:57._

Steeling his resolve, he threw his bag over his shoulder and quickly left, the sound of his door closing and his heavy footsteps echoing in an otherwise quiet and deserted hallway.

* * *

 _The death of fifty-thousand people in Shanghai yesterday has rattled the nation…_

 _A French satellite has tracked an object in space…_

 _This is CNN, live in Florida. We have just learned that NASA is on a full-scale military alert. They're calling this a global killer._

 _The Pentagon is getting involved at this point with some kind of a project involving NASA and perhaps a shuttle mission…_

 _Senior Pentagon officials refused comment, adding fuel to the speculation that there could be a very serious problem._

Truman quickly made his way up to the podium, the harsh shutter-flashes of the cameras hurting his eyes and the incessant yelling of the reporters in his ears. The crowd fell silent almost immediately—every pair of eyes on him, every TV camera pointed in his direction.

He took a deep breath.

"We have a special team of astronauts that arrived in Florida this evening. NASA's in emergency launch preparation in cooperation with Russian, Japanese, and French space agencies on the most massive joint space venture in history. I know that over the last twenty-four hours, news networks have been presenting you with stories and expert opinions regarding a large object in space that was caught on a privately owned telescope late last night, following the disaster in China. Allow me to fill in the blanks for you, if I may." He swallowed hard. "Approximately thirteen days ago, we received a call from a private citizen that had spotted a large object in space. I spoke to him directly, and after receiving coordinates for the object's last known location, we contacted the Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland, instructing them to move the Hubble telescope in an effort to capture visual evidence of the phenomenon for further study. Upon review of detailed photographs, we estimated that the object was in fact an asteroid; never previously discovered and outside of NASA's own tracking capabilities at that time. Using trajectory models we were able to determine that the asteroid's path was on a direct collision course with Earth, and that should a collision take place, the damage would be catastrophic. You've heard the term _global killer_ several times over the course of the last day. That term is a credible one. Similar to the event that science believes exterminated the dinosaurs, this asteroid would cause cataclysmic conditions—such that no human being would be able to survive." There was a gradual uproar at his words and he held a hand up, signaling for quiet. "Ladies and gentlemen, please." The crowed slowly quieted and he continued. " With this knowledge, we began preparations for emergency action and have been working towards that, continuously, in the days since."

Truman paused for a second, taking a quick sip of water from the ice cold glass his aid had brought to him only seconds before. "Tomorrow evening, at 6:30PM, two shuttles will launch from Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral. Their mission is to travel to the asteroid, land on it at two separately designated sites, drill to eight-hundred feet, and deploy a nuclear weapon. Both shuttles will then take off from the asteroid and remote detonate that weapon. If our teams are successful, the remaining halves should pass right by us."

For the first time in all his years at NASA, one could hear a pin drop in the middle of a press conference. There were no more camera flashes, no more raised hands desperate to ask a question. There was just a room full of people, wanting answers just as much as the billions of people that were sitting at home watching.

In that moment, they were all connected.

"I want to assure the American people, as well as people all over the world, that all of NASA's technology, experience, and capability is being devoted to preventing this disaster. We ask that you send your thoughts and prayers to our astronauts. They carry on their shoulders the hopes and dreams of an entire planet…and we here at NASA have every confidence that they will succeed in their mission and return home as quickly as they're able. Thank you."

He stepped down from the podium and the press nearly rushed him, knocking over chairs and cameras in an effort to get to him. He hurried from the room and let out a long breath, reaching up and loosening his tie.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky as she stood at the water's edge, looking out over the causeway. There was a light breeze blowing through the long grass, there were ducks skimming across the surface of the water, birds were chirping…it all seemed so ordinary, so _normal_. From where she was standing she could see the two enormous shuttles in the final stages of being moved from the hangar to the launch pad, the sun reflecting off of their flawless metal skin.

There were only hours left until they were due to report back for their final mission briefing and she couldn't sit still anymore, far too wound up to do anything else but walk aimlessly around the base.

Oscar and Bear had both separately volunteered to go with her saying that they didn't want her to be alone, but the truth was she _needed_ time to herself. She needed to think things through, come to terms with things before she no longer had the time. Because once they were strapped into those shuttles, once they landed on the asteroid, there would be no time but to drill and hope for the best.

Now that those two weeks were practically over it felt like they'd flown by.

Their four hour flight from Houston to Cape Canaveral the night before was also a complete blur. She remembered arriving at Ellington, she remembered the group of them silently walking across the tarmac to the waiting plane, she remembered the sensation of taking off—and that was only because she was comparing it to the _last_ time she'd taken off from that base, trying desperately not to scream in the rear seat of Sharp's plane.

She remembered Truman coming to say his goodbyes and the exchange had been extraordinarily emotional, seeing as how the man was usually as straight-laced as they came. But she knew that it was warranted. After all, he wasn't going to see them face to face until they returned home.

 _If_ they returned home.

And obsessing on _that_ thought is what had made a four hour flight seem like nothing.

It was a valuable thing. _Time_.

So many people squandered it, far too busy with everyday life to realize what it was they were giving up so easily. It was one of the most treasured things in the world. _Time_ was moments spent with family around the dinner table…moments with friends full of laughter and hot coffee…moments with someone you love, full of kisses and tender embraces. It was a shame that most people didn't realize that until it was too late.

She remembered in the days leading up to his death, her father had been a better father and a better man than he ever had been in the first sixteen years of her life. As he was lying in that hospital bed, wasting away to practically nothing, he'd actually _talked_ to her; he'd asked her about her life, her goals, if there were any cute boys at school, what she'd scored on her latest math test. For the first time since her mother pulled the disappearing act he'd taken a genuine interest in her.

And then she'd watched him die, angry at the world for not giving her more time.

Ten years later she was in almost the same situation; the asteroid had only given them eighteen days.

"Charlotte?"

She turned at the familiar voice and watched as her adopted father walked slowly towards her, his arms crossed over his chest. "What are you doin' out here?"

"Couldn't stay in my room anymore. I was going stir-crazy." She sensed him stop right beside her and knew he was looking at her. The question was in the air and she couldn't help but chuckle humorlessly, honestly surprised that he hadn't already asked her a thousand-and-one times. Thinking it was truly ridiculous to be having such a conversation at that particular time, she said, "Go ahead and ask, Harry. Get it over with."

"You and Sharp."

"What about us?"

He let out an impatient breath, "You've only known him for two weeks."

"Hasn't exactly been a _normal_ two weeks, though, has it." Her hair was blowing around in the breeze and she swept it back, out of her eyes. "He's a good man."

"A good man? Really?"

"He stayed because I asked him to." She shrugged her shoulders, saying, "He took me to meet his family our last night in Houston—he didn't want me being alone. You've always said you don't want me involved with a roughneck. What, an astronaut not up to your standards?"

"Is that what you and him are? _Involved_?"

The revulsion on his face was strangely funny and she found herself laughing out loud for what felt like the first time in forever. She walked towards him and threw her arms around him the second he was close enough. He didn't even hesitate in returning the hug, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, honey." He sighed and tightened his hold on her, speaking quietly. "You know when it comes to you and Gracie…I just…"

"I know."

They stood there like that together for several minutes, ignoring the sounds of the choppers overhead and the sirens wailing in the distance. The base was coming alive for what was probably going to be the most publicized and anticipated launch in the history of spaceflight…and the two of them were drowning it all out.

None of it mattered, not right then.

After a second, in a somewhat strained voice, she asked, "Promise me something." She felt his chin move against her shoulder in what she knew was a silent nod, his version of _I'm listening._ "Promise me that when we get back we'll go to New York and go to that old pizza place. Remember the one I mean?"

"Franny's." He chuckled as they mutually pulled apart, a soft smile on his face. "With the old checkered tiles and the candles in tomato sauce cans."

"And then a Rangers game, in the bleachers." Another chopper flew overhead and she spoke over the noise, matching his smile. "We'll bring Grace with us. AJ, too, I guess."

She expected another disgusted facial expression at the words but she didn't get it. Instead, he stood there quietly and let out a long measured breath, glancing up at the cloudless sky. "Your Colonel like hockey?"

Her smile morphed into a grin. "I guess we'll have to ask him."

 **END**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, the story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

Thanks again to everyone that has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. I've re-written this chapter _at least_ five times. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

It reminded her of her high school production of _Guys and Dolls._ They'd been given a call time for hair and makeup, and if they weren't at the theater _by_ that time, the drama teacher would have their heads.

Same kind of thing at NASA.

Their call time for their final briefing and medical exam was two o'clock and it couldn't have been made clearer to them that if they _weren't_ there at two o'clock, the military police would go out in force and hunt them down. Everyone seemed to get the message because the whole group of them were there early, each and every person nearly vibrating with anxiety as the medical team led them into the bowels of the preparation building.

Stripped down to a white tank top and black shorts, she shivered as the nurse wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around her left arm. Everyone was scattered around the room and despite how talkative the group usually was they were all silent, the only conversation taking place was amongst the doctors and their nurses as they compared notes.

In an effort to keep them all free from germs, everyone assisting them was wearing white body suits; covered, literally, from their heads to their toes. Their arms and legs were wrapped in plastic, they wore tight hats on their heads that reminded Charlotte of swimming caps, and they had material booties over their shoes.

The whole thing made her feel uncomfortable, like they were all contagious or something.

It came as no surprise that her heart rate was high but the doctor shrugged it off, attributing it to nerves. Other than that, she, along with everyone else, was cleared for final launch prep.

The large circular room that they were taken to was empty except for a circle of metal chairs in the middle of the floor and the clothing racks lined up along the walls.

Their flight suits.

Royal blue for the pilots and deep orange for everyone else.

Charlotte took a seat in the closest chair and let out a breath, watching as the rest of the crew filed in silently. One of the aides, a man that she'd never seen before, came in last and cleared his throat, speaking in a quiet voice. "Please take a seat and try to relax. We'll be helping you into your suits shortly."

AJ took the seat next to her and after running a hand down his face he looked over at her, his eyes speaking clearly the words he wasn't saying out loud.

They'd barely spoken since their exchange at the pool a couple of days before and the truth was she hadn't known what to say to him. In fact, there hadn't really been a need to say _anything_ to him. Once they'd been assigned to their shuttles, the two separate groups tended to stick together for simulations and meetings, eliminating the need for an awkward and forced conversation.

But as they sat there, side by side, there didn't need to be a conversation.

Without saying a word, he reached a hand out towards her.

 _I'm sorry._

Charlotte let out another breath and hesitated for only a second before sending him a small smile and reaching out herself, grasping his hand and intertwining their fingers.

 _Me too._

And it was as simple as that.

The door to the room opened again and when a small team of aides came in, they pulled their hands apart, not wanting to get in trouble for the physical contact- _no touching allowed, you could catch something._

She very nearly rolled her eyes but was distracted when one of them walked up to the closest rack and pulled out a heavy royal blue suit. She could just make out the name written on a patch on the chest and she watched closely as he turned and approached Sharp, who was sitting a few chairs away.

He obediently stood up and sent the aide an abrupt nod, the two of them sharing a few near-silent words as they started the seemingly complicated process of getting the _Freedom_ commander changed.

For the shortest second, he looked over at her and his face was smooth and serious.

And then it was her turn.

With a deep orange suit held firmly in her hands, one of the assistants approached Charlotte and nodded at her, asking, "Are you ready?"

She couldn't even form the words to respond out loud so she settled for a nod.

It took nearly an hour to get everyone changed and once all of their black shorts and white t-shirts had disappeared beneath heavy layers of blue and orange, they all once again took a seat, the room echoing with an eerie silence.

In those last few precious moments, she took the time to really _look_ at everyone around her...all the familiar faces. Some old, some new. Harry was sitting on her right, AJ was on her left…Will was directly across from her sitting between Bear and Halsey. They were all leaning forward with their arms resting on their knees. Most were staring at the floor while others looked directly ahead, their eyes glassy, lost in thought.

She once again found herself wishing she would wake up; wide-eyed and sweating in her bunk on the rig _or_ her queen-sized bed in her house in Houston, the blankets tangled around her from her agitated tossing and turning. But as much as she wished for it, she knew that those two weeks hadn't been a dream. It couldn't have been, it was far too real.

It felt like years since that afternoon when federal agents had stormed into the Sweetbriar with her photograph in their hands. She'd been sitting at the counter with a coffee and a blueberry scone, engrossed in one of her favorite geology books, and hadn't even noticed them come in. It wasn't until Gillian had started stuttering that she'd even looked up, her eyes widening at the truly enormous men in blue windbreakers with _FBI_ emblazoned across the back.

A coffee and a blueberry scone, reading a book.

Looking back on it, it seemed so simple. So ordinary.

There was a very large part of her that was afraid that once that mission was done, if she survived it, she'd never be able to do that again; sit and simply enjoy a coffee or get lost in a book. She was afraid that she'd never feel _normal_ again.

It was just another example of something she'd taken for granted when she hadn't known any better.

Would she ever be able to look up at the sky again without wondering what was out there, what could be coming, what the next global disaster was going to be?

Doubtful.

She'd seen the inner-workings of a government agency that thrived on keeping their technology and knowledge a secret. She could never _un-see_ it.

The world was a different place. Much larger and far more vulnerable than she'd ever imagined it could be.

She was so lost in that thought that she didn't even hear the large door open or see the man walk in, waving his arm before calling to them in a booming voice, "Astronauts."

She jumped and out of the corner of her eye she saw that Sharp was the first to stand, followed by the other pilots, and then everyone else; each person grabbing their helmet before funneling out the door. Harry must've sensed her alarm because he placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

As soon as she crossed the doorstep and was out in the fresher air of the hallway, she instantly felt a little bit better.

A gentle hand took hold of her arm and she opened her eyes, looking over to see a pale-faced Grace standing there against the wall. The two sisters reached for each other at the same time, ignoring the disapproving looks of the aides—the germ police—that were following the astronauts out.

And they hugged, their arms tight and their eyes watery. "Promise me that you'll be careful." Grace pleaded quietly. "You and Harry. All of you."

"I promise."

One of the countless assistants motioned down the hallway and said, "Ms. Scofield, please? We have to go."

Very reluctantly, the two women pulled apart and Charlotte sniffled, grabbing hold of Grace's left hand. She couldn't help but smile at the small diamond ring. "You're finally wearing it."

"I figured today was as good a day as any."

Charlotte squeezed Grace's fingers. "Congratulations."

"Hurry up and get back, I'm going to need my Maid of Honor sooner rather than later."

And at those words they hugged again, the hapless assistant letting out a sigh and putting his hands on his hips to display his irritation.

Charlotte couldn't care less.

She was allowed one last moment of pure happiness before leaving, NASA rules and schedules be damned.

When they finally did break apart, Charlotte continued on down the hallway with a smile on her face…a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile.

The hallway veered to the left and when she walked around the corner, her still watery eyes fell on a truly enormous American flag that was hanging on the back wall. She stared at it as she walked, not even paying attention to what was in front of her and she startled slightly when a hand reached out and touched her arm.

Looking up into Will's blue eyes, which were even more radiant now that he was wearing the blue flight suit, she couldn't help but let out a breath.

He sent her a somewhat forced smile and when he spoke his voice was soft. "You doing ok?"

"I'm still on my feet, so I guess that's something."

He nodded, squeezing her arm gently.

"Is this like before?"

His brow furrowed. "Is this like before what?"

She motioned around the large space—the flag, the people watching them, the silence as the group made their way through. It was almost like the people observing them were sending them all to the electric chair, looking at them as if they were already dead. She could see the sympathy in their eyes, a look that clearly said _'better you than me'._

She didn't like it.

"The other times you've been to space. Is this like that?"

He seemed to understand what she meant because he took a quick look around, his eyes connecting with the eyes of some of the people watching. And as if they'd been caught staring at something they shouldn't have been, they averted their eyes. Will shook his head. "No, it isn't. Not at all."

"Of course it isn't." Her eyes widened in embarrassment as Harry joined them, his serious eyes zeroing in rather threateningly on Sharp. "But then, who knows. I'm assuming you weren't messin' around with any of the other astronauts during those first flights, were you, Colonel?"

She couldn't help but gasp at her adopted father's crass words, resisting the urge smack his arm. "Harry, please-"

Will held up a hand, "It's ok, Charlotte." He returned Harry's glare impressively, his eyes just as narrow—matching the heat of Harry's anger with the chill of his own. "Look, Harry…you're angry and I understand that. I should've spoken with you first—"

 _I'm leavin'! On a jet plane!_

 _Don't know when I'll be back again._

She pulled her eyes from the spectacle of manliness in front of her and looked down the hallway where AJ was loudly, proudly, and rather _obnoxiously_ singing, with Grace in his arms. Charlotte cringed and realized quickly that both Will and Harry weren't paying the slightest bit of attention. They were still looking at each other.

Harry took a step forward, and she had to give Will credit-he didn't move. "When we get back, we're getting into this. But in the meantime—" He looked down at Charlotte and for a fraction of a second, his eyes softened. She stared right back, silently begging him to just _leave it alone_. "You're piloting the shuttle that's carrying half my family—these three men and _one_ of my girls. I sure hope you can stay focused on the job."

Will's eyes flashed at the insinuation but he kept his feelings to himself, instead settling for a somewhat respectful nod. "I'm pretty sure I can do that."

"Good." Harry looked back to Charlotte and leaned over to her, placing a gentle kiss in her hair. "See you on board, honey."

And then he was gone, leaving a trail of mortification and anger in his wake.

The sound of Bear, Max, and Rockhound vocalizing _Leaving On A Jet Plane_ followed them the rest of the way, Will's eyes on fire and Charlotte's cheeks burning.

* * *

As the massive bay door slid open, revealing them to the worlds' press and the crowd that had gathered, the President walked slowly and carefully to the podium in the White House press room. The reporters fell silent as he stood there and when he spoke, his voice was firm.

 _I address you tonight not as the President of the United States, not as the leader of a country, but as a citizen of humanity. We are faced with the very gravest of challenges. The Bible calls this day Armageddon, the end of all things. And yet, for the first time in the history of the planet, a species has the technology to prevent its own extinction. All of you praying with us need to know…that everything that can be done to prevent this disaster is being called into service._

They walked along the set pathway through the crowd and towards the buses; camera flashes, helicopters hovering nearby, and the sound of the crowd cheering was nearly deafening.

 _The human thirst for excellence…and knowledge…every step up the ladder of science. Every adventurous reach into space. All of our combined modern technologies and imaginations, even the wars that we've fought, have provided us the tools to wage this terrible battle. Through all the chaos that is our history, through all of the wrongs and the discord, through all of the pain and suffering, through all of our times there is one thing that has nourished our souls and elevated our species above its origins…and that is our courage._

In a small motel room just outside of Port St. John, Florida-only a couple of miles from Cape Canaveral-Julia Mercer sat on the sofa in between her husband and her son. They were all clutching hands, their knuckles white.

Watching the TV intently, she could make him out clearly in the group of astronauts, as if she were standing right there in the crowd.

Her little brother...in a royal blue flight suit.

Her eyes welled up and she couldn't hold in the strangled sob; Brian wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to his side.

 _The dreams of the entire planet are focused tonight on those fifteen brave souls traveling into the heavens. And may we all, citizens the world over, see these events through._

In the kitchen of a small farmhouse in Ohio a woman with honey-colored hair sat at her rickety old kitchen table, her eyes glued to the television as she recognized the young woman in and amongst the men.

It'd been thirteen years since she'd last seen her, but she knew instantly.

It never mattered how many years had gone by, a mother always recognized her daughter.

And her daughter was beautiful.

 _Godspeed. And good luck to you._

* * *

When the lift finally came to a stop at the very top of the tower, Sharp pushed the cage door open with a loud clang and was the first to step out. A man in an orange jumpsuit was standing at the fence, directing them. "Freedom crew." He pointed left. "Independence crew." He pointed right.

While Freedom's two pilots made the turn and disappeared around the corner, across the metal catwalks and towards the shuttle, Charlotte stopped and looked out over the railing. They must've been over two-hundred feet in the air and the view was breathtaking—the tall green trees, the water of the causeway, the setting sun.

She couldn't help but smile to herself at the familiar sight.

It felt just like yesterday that she'd been watching the sunrise in the South China Sea. Now there she was, two weeks later, watching a sunset halfway around the world in Florida.

She felt a hand rest on the small of her back and she looked over her shoulder, her eyes falling on Oscar.

He too had decided to take a moment and appreciate the sunset, as he often did with her when they were on the rig. He let out a long and blissful sounding breath. "Pretty swell, huh?"

"It looks different somehow."

"Florida versus Taipei?"

"Before asteroid versus _after_ asteroid."

Oscar made an _ahh_ face. "Well, kiddo, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss." He nudged her arm affectionately. "But just think: once we get through this, we'll have _saved the world_. Not many people can say that."

She looked over at him and smiled, shaking her head. "I wish I was as positive as you, Oz."

"Don't worry, Charlie, I have enough for both of us. See you up there." He leaned over and kissed her temple before turning away and following in his crew's footsteps.

The second he disappeared around the corner she took a deep breath, trying to commit the sunset to memory. The fact was? She might never see another one.

"Ms. Scofield?"

The man in the orange jumpsuit spoke to her quietly, as if recognizing that she was having a moment and felt bad for having to interrupt. It must've been a common thing for astronauts to do at the last minute, however, she'd be willing to bet she was the only one who had ever done it at the top of the lift, mere _feet_ from the shuttle.

And without another word, she turned and followed his direction—turning her back on the yellows, oranges, and reds.

She was embarrassed to see that the rest of Freedom's crew had been waiting for her to cross the catwalk and the second she joined them Sharp started forward, a man's voice coming over the PA saying, _Freedom's on the bridge_.

 _Attention in the firing room. The oxidizer loading is complete._

 _Attention all personnel. We are T-MINUS two hours to the program goal._

The entrance to the shuttle was the tiniest little door she'd ever seen and when it was her turn, she sat down on the edge and scooted her way inside…thankful that there was an aid there to grab hold of her and keep her steady.

* * *

With the assistance of two men-who practically had to lift her and _place_ her in her seat-she was finally settled in, trying to ignore the weight of gravity and the insanely tight restraints against her chest. It was an uncomfortable feeling, sitting at a near ninety-degree angle.

Rockhound's voice drifted over to her from two seats over. "Hey, Harry."

"Yeah, Rock?"

"You know we're sitting on four million pounds of fuel, one nuclear weapon, and a thing that has 270,000 moving parts built by the lowest bidder." He grunted as an aide stepped down on his chest, pulling the straps tight. "Makes you feel good, doesn't it?"

Harry simply grunted, "Yeah."

Her stomach was rolling and she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the headrest. "Thanks, Rock. That makes all this more bearable, truly. I was on the verge of completely freaking out but that just calmed me right down."

"Just take a deep breath, Scofield." Gruber's voice broke into the conversation and Charlotte couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever heard the man speak prior to that moment. "This'll all be over before you know it."

"Yeah, that's kinda everyone's worst nightmare—things being over before we know it. We don't want things to be _over_ , do we? I mean, isn't that the point of all this?"

Trying to follow Gruber's advice, she didn't even hear Harry quietly telling Rockhound to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

 _Independence and Freedom, this is the Kennedy Firing Room. We are T-MINUS one minute. All crew members, close and lock your visors._

She reached up and pulled her visor down, listening for the tell-tale click that indicated it was locked, just as she'd been trained to do.

 _Freedom, this is launch control. Be advised, we're in a smooth count._

 _T-MINUS thirty-one. You're go for auto-sequence start. PLT's, perform your ADU pre-start._

Truman's voice suddenly came across their ear-pieces, calm and collected. " _Ok, ladies and gentlemen, you're our warriors up there. God be with you. You're already heroes. Just sit back and enjoy the ride."_

 _FTD, we're clear to launch._

 _We're T-MINUS twenty seconds._

As she sat there in her seat, surrounded by radio chatter and bright tower lights shining in through the main window, she briefly found herself wondering if it was too late to tell Truman that she'd changed her mind and wanted to go home.

 _Ten._

 _Nine._

 _Eight._

 _Seven._

 _Six._

 _Five._

 _Four._

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

 _We have main engine start._

The rumbling started immediately and within seconds of _that_ they were shaking so violently that Charlotte had to close her eyes, keeping all her available focus on her breathing and her heart rate.

Will's voice came over the comm. "We have booster ignition. We're going."

 _And liftoff._

And then they were off the ground, the disorienting feeling of being in the air enough to make her open her eyes again.

 _Freedom, this is flight deck._

 _Roger Freedom, you're looking good._

"Start roll maneuver."

The words weren't even completely out of their pilot's mouth and she felt the shuttle start to turn. Despite the intense shaking and the overwhelming noise of their engines, the feeling of finally being right-side-up in her seat was a welcome one and she forced herself to let out a breath, squinting in the harsh light.

 _Freedom, we have a max cue._

"Roger, Control. We are max cue. SRB separation." There was a jolt as the boosters separated from the shuttle. "We are single-engine. Press to MECO."

 _Copy Freedom, press to MECO._

Whatever the hell _MECO_ was? She was all for it.

The violent shaking that had plagued them throughout the launch was reduced to a mild quivering, and after a few more seconds, was gone completely. The shuttle moved smoothly through space and Charlotte nearly had to pry her hands from the arms of her seat, flexing her sore fingers inside her gloves.

 _Freedom, this is Houston. Main engine cut out on schedule. Out._

The blinding light which she assumed was from the flames that had erupted from the boosters had also faded, and when her eyes finally focused on the front window, she felt them widen.

Thick velvety blackness, total and complete, flecked with small points of bright light. _Stars._ Unlike anything she'd ever seen before. And in the bottom of the window was Earth; incandescent and perfect, she could make out the clouds and the pure blue of the oceans.

She'd seen countless photos of the Earth from space but they did the sight no justice…and for a second, her eyes welled up.

There was the quiet sound of rushing air as Sharp and Watts both unlocked their visors, pushing them up, and the rest of them silently followed suit. The burst of air on the clammy skin of her face was refreshing and she took a gulping breath.

 _Freedom, stats are good._

Colonel Davis' voice came across the comm. _"Houston, we have a visual on the Russian Space Station. Initiating retro burn."_

"Same for Freedom, Houston." Sharp flipped a switch on the command console. "Initiating retro burn now."

Truman said, " _Gentlemen, remember the Russian space station has been up there for eleven years. Most of us don't have cars that old. Now, the cosmonaut on board has been on that tin can for eighteen months, alone. So don't be surprised if he's a little...off."_

In the roughly ten minutes they had before reaching the station, when they would once again be forced to strap into their seats, most of them took the opportunity to quickly change out of their heavy flight suits. The training they had gone through over those two weeks did absolutely nothing to really prepare them for what weightlessness really felt like. The sensation of removing her restraints and floating up from her seat was almost overwhelming and she let out a nervous laugh, drawing Harry and Rockhound's attention.

"You alright over there, Charlie?"

She locked eyes with Harry for a second and then nodded, doing what she could to steady herself. "Just feels weird."

"You'll get used to it quickly. Alright, gentlemen—" Sharp turned in his chair and looked back at them, his eyes settling on Charlotte for only a split second. "We're gonna dock in a minute. Now, the Russian space station has fired her rockets to simulate gravity and let us work faster. But it's gonna make you queasy, so prepare yourselves."

Rockhound had removed his restraints, as had Harry, and both were floating lazily back and forth. "Oh, it's about time." He said, his hands resting behind his head. "I haven't thrown up in about an hour."

After removing her suit with Harry's invaluable help, she floated over to a nearby storage locker and did what she could to stuff the suit inside, nearly groaning out loud when one of her gloves nearly got away from her.

The second she closed the locker door, Watts called out, "Everyone strap in."

Charlotte moved as quickly as she could, using the chairs of her crew mates to make it across the shuttle and back into her own seat. The flight director's voice came through the speakers just as she was snapping her restraints back into place.

 _Initiating first phase of docking procedure._

Sharp grabbed hold of the control column. "Switching to manual."

And without missing a beat, Watts replied, "Manual override."

 _Alright, one foot per second. Let's take this slow and do it right, folks._

Sharp said, "Keep an eye on the output for me, Watts."

All she did was nod, her eyes glued to the gauges and monitors.

 _Twenty feet._

 _Ten feet._

Will pressed a button.

 _Five feet. Freedom, telemetry is looking good._

There was a loud clanging noise followed by an audible hiss and the shuttle jolted to a stop.

 _We have soft dock._

"Fuel teams, prepare to unload."

Everyone stood from their seats and Charlotte looked over at Harry; he was staring intently upwards, a look of awe on his face as he gazed through one of the windows on the shuttle's upper deck. The massive structure of the space station was clearly visible moving above them.

She felt a thousand times better since changing out of her suit, the black cargo pants and grey t-shirt with _Freedom_ emblazoned across the back making her feel somewhat normal again. Well…as normal as she could feel hundreds of miles above the Earth's surface.

Her stomach rolled uncomfortably.

Chick appeared beside her. "You doin' ok, girl? You're lookin' a little green."

All she could do was send him a queasy smile.

He placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder as Sharp and Watts walked by, both of them going directly to the large airlock that separated the interior of the shuttle from the interior of the station. With a few strong turns the airlock hissed and popped open, Sharp leading the way and ducking through the hatch. "Alright, gentlemen, watch your heads."

As they all funneled through the small hatch and emerged inside what appeared to be the station's main corridor, Charlotte couldn't help but wonder just how in the hell a human being could survive in such a confined space for such a long period of time. And alone, to top it all off.

She wasn't claustrophobic—she 'd been forced to get used to small and restricted spaces working on the rig—but she could almost _feel_ the walls closing in on her as she stood there and she was very aware of the fact that there was nothing beneath her feet except endless black space.

It was right then that she knew, without a doubt, she'd never be able to be an astronaut full-time. A social creature at heart, she'd never be able to survive physically or emotionally being cut off from everyone for so long and in such an extreme way.

It was a very cold environment and as she followed the crowd down the corridor, that coldness chilled her to her very bones.

 **END**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, the story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

They met up with the Independence crew at a junction of four separate corridor, the two Commanders exchanging a quick salute. Gruber muttered, "Where is he?" seconds before Sharp loudly hollered, "Anybody home?"

Charlotte couldn't hold in the small shriek she let out when a man's torso literally appeared right in front of her, hanging upside down from a hidden alcove in the ceiling. "Welcome, everybody." He performed an impressive flip and landed on his feet with a thud, looking around at all of them.

He was of average height, his dark hair flattened under what looked like a somewhat ratty knitted cap, and his white t-shirt was ruined from oil stains and sweat. In a thick Russian accent, he said, "I'm not gas station! This is sophisticated laboratory, I'm in charge. So do not be touching _anything!"_ He looked from man to man, his eyes passing somewhat skeptically over Charlotte and Watt as they stood off to the side. "I need one." He pointed at AJ. "I need you."

When AJ looked unsure, Sharp nodded at him and muttered, "Go with him."

"I need you! Hurry up, hurry up, come on." The Russian led AJ a little further into the station. "It's very important you watch the fuel gauge, ok? Put on cold suit."

The group of them ended up surrounding a large opening situated in the floor with a steel ladder leading all the way to the bottom. There was a very fine mist coming up from it and Charlotte didn't need to be close to it to feel the chill in the air.

"Fuel pod is down there."

"Down _here_ , huh?" AJ climbed up and maneuvered himself to stand on the ladder—both him and Sharp carrying little portable lanterns for light.

She stood and watched until her friend disappeared down the ladder before heading over to where the rest of her team was waiting to lift the heavy fuel line.

She couldn't even count how many times they'd gone through this in drills and simulations; so many times it was practically muscle memory at that point. In unison they all bent down and struggled to wrap their hands around the thick pipe, Watts calling out, "Try not to drop it, that line has a nickel alloy liner that could break bones."

The muscles in her arms and back were screaming as she lifted and she was thankful she'd been allowed to sneak her old work gloves on board. Her hands would've blistered without them, for sure.

As a team they started moving, Max saying, "Freedom on the left, Independence on the right," from the back of the pack as they reached the dead-end at the end of the corridor.

"Alright, we're goin' left here." Harry led the way confidently, carefully stepping over ledges and the random bits of tubing that were scattered across the floor. "Keep up guys, gotta move fast."

"You know, it's a good thing I quit smoking or this would've been _really_ difficult."

She couldn't help but laugh, glancing back at Rockhound, who was wheezing somewhat pathetically behind her.

They carefully made their way around the corner, Charlotte readjusting her hands on the hose and watching her feet to make sure she didn't trip.

Harry came to a sudden halt in the front and she could just make out him and Watts working the nozzle of their line into the matching outlet on the wall. Similar to the sound when the shuttle had docked with the station, there was a heavy sounding clang followed by a hiss as the two pieces of equipment fit together successfully. "We've got hard lock."

The Russian's voice suddenly rang out, "Ready for transfusion!" as she made her way slowly back to the main hub, pulling off her work gloves and stashing them in one of the wide pockets of her pants. The other crew members were moving around with purpose, each and every person doing what needed to be done to facilitate the transfer. Sharp was standing beside the entryway to the fuel pod and was looking down, his eyes obviously on AJ as he monitored the gauges.

Coming to a stop beside him, Charlotte let out a breath. "Is he alright down there?"

"He's fine. He'll be outta there soon." He glanced over at her. "The transfer won't take long."

Sending him a quick nod, she spotted Rockhound standing near a control panel of some sort. He held what looked like a photo in his hands and he was staring at it rather incredulously. Unable to continue on without asking what brought that truly hysterical expression to his face, she wandered over to him and nudged his shoulder to get his attention. "Where'd you find that?"

Glancing at her over his shoulder, he held the old photo up so she could see it. "It was taped to the wall."

It was a somewhat blurry image of two young kids sitting on either side of a middle-aged man, who was wearing truly horrible eighties-style glasses with enormous wire frames and thick lenses that magnified his eyes a couple times. "Cool frames."

Rock snorted quietly before pointing at the man with a steady finger. "See a family resemblance?"

"What, Andropov?"

The photo was snatched out of Rockhound's hand so suddenly that they both jumped. "Don't touch my uncle!" Andropov reattached it to the wall affectionately. "He used to work for a big bomb factory. He used to make the tip of the bomb—" Rock, Harry, and Charlotte all looked at each other in bewilderment, Charlotte's mouth hanging open. "—the thing that finds…New York or Washington, you know?"

Thankfully, at the mercy of all that was holy, Watts and Chick emerged from a nearby hatch; and it was a good thing, too, because Harry looked about ready to wallop the Russian right in the face.

 _New York or Washington._

 _Good God._

"Check your hoses. We've got some thermal variation." She motioned to Harry. "Stamper, let's look at the couplings back on the shuttle."

He nodded and fell into step behind her.

All of a sudden there was the loud and ear-splitting noise of the motors grinding down, accompanied by the ominous flickering of lights.

Andropov pushed his way around her and looked to a small video monitor mounted on the far wall. Whatever he saw there made him take off running, hoisting himself through the hatch and blasting by Sharp who was speaking into a handheld radio. Charlotte looked to the monitor herself and her eyes fell on AJ's face; he was waving his arms and screaming, but there was no sound. The speaker must've been broken.

She moved quickly to the hatch and watched as Sharp took off after him, his tall form silhouetted as the lights flickered again. "What is it?"

"Leak! Leak! We have leak!"

Her eyes widened and then there was a loud alarm blaring throughout the station, accompanied by Lev shouting, "Get your men back to the shuttle!" She moved aside to allow him space to come back through the hatch and he ran to the opening of the fuel pod, leaning over the edge and shouting, "Get out of there!" AJ yelled something back which she couldn't hear but Lev raised a hand up. "Pull lever! Colonel, we must get him out of there!"

Sharp climbed up onto the rim of the opening and grasped a metal pipe on to the ceiling to steady himself. "AJ! Come on out!"

A sudden burst of flames erupted from the pod and the force of it threw Sharp backwards. He landed flat on his back in the middle of the floor and Charlotte didn't even hesitate in jumping over him and leaning over the entrance herself, reaching her hand out. The mixture of intense cold and heat made her cough and she covered her mouth, still holding her hand out into nothingness. "AJ! Grab my hand!"

There were suddenly two strong arms wrapped around her middle and they were pulling her back. She struggled against whoever it was, kicking her legs. "No, let me go, he's right there! AJ!"

"Get back to the shuttle, this thing's gonna blow!"

Sharp.

 _Sharp_ was holding her… _pulling_ her back.

"He's right there, I can get him!"

"We gotta go! Now!" He held her against his chest in a truly unbreakable grip before practically throwing her through the hatch, following along closely behind her and stopping her whenever she tried to turn back. Davis was waiting on the other side and as soon as they were through, the two men immediately pushed the hatch door closed and sealed it, effectively locking both AJ and Lev inside the collapsing station.

She barely had time to catch her breath and scream about her friend being left behind before Sharp's arms were around her again, forcing her forward. Flames exploded and traveled along the ceiling, the heat almost unbearable, and she instinctively raised a hand up to shield her face.

The atmosphere inside the station had changed from productive and calm to all-out panic and chaos in a matter of seconds. Everyone was yelling, running, and through it all she could hear the far off explosions as the structure fell apart around them.

What if the shuttle had been damaged? What if they couldn't leave?

What if they were all stuck there?

"Evac now! Let's go!"

The smoke that was filling the corridors was thick with an acrid electrical smell and almost everyone was coughing, desperate for the clean air and the illusion of safety that the shuttles would provide them.

The sight of Chick tumbling over the edge of the entrance to the shuttle brought her back to reality in jarring fashion and she quickly but carefully followed, moving to stand just inside the doorway. Harry was there and he got right in Sharp's face when the Colonel yelled to Watts that they had to leave. "Wait, wait, wait! Where's AJ?"

"AJ's gone!"

"We're not leaving without AJ!"

Sharp practically had to jump onto Harry's back to keep him from leaving the shuttle and the chorus of voices, yelling, and screaming was enough to make her nearly lose her mind. Chick appeared in front of her and as if ignoring everything else that was happening, he raised a hand to her face and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You ok? Are you hurt?"

Harry and Sharp were still yelling at each other.

"How could you just leave him in there!"

"I tried! I tried to get him out—"

Once the shuttle door was sealed and locked, Sharp pushed his way by Harry and hurried towards the flight deck. Chick grabbed the still hysterical Harry by the shirt and nearly pushed him against the wall, speaking in a calm voice. "It's on fire, Harry—"

"It's them or all of us!"

With tears in her eyes and her lungs aching from the effort and the panic, Charlotte slowly made her way to her chair.

She wanted to go home. AJ was gone. That's it, she'd had enough.

She dropped into the chair and let out a shuddering breath, unconsciously grabbing her restraints and clipping them into place.

Sharp and Watts were already busy at the controls. "Full thrust."

"We're gonna get hit."

He snapped at her. "We're _not_ gonna get hit, let's move it. We gotta go, we gotta go now."

There was a violent shudder, as if the entire station was ripping itself apart from the inside out, and Chick, who was looking through one of the upper windows, yelled, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Colonel! That thing's comin' right for us, we gotta move!"

And suddenly they were moving, the intense acceleration as the shuttle pulled away from the station forcing her back into her seat. A large structure from the station came crashing down and destroyed the docking tube, missing Freedom by what felt like inches based on the force of the explosion.

 _The explosion._

AJ was gone. They'd left him.

Her mind raced as she sat there, the sounds of the shuttle and her crew mates shouting distorted in her ears. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't think, could barely _breathe_.

 _Grace._

What was she going to tell Grace?

What could Charlotte _possibly_ say? She knew there was absolutely nothing. No words would make a difference, no explanations, no platitudes, no _words of comfort_. None of it would bring him back.

Most of her hair had fallen out of her ponytail and she wiped at her tearing eyes, tucking the tangled mess behind her ears.

Davis' voice suddenly came over the speakers, sounding far too happy for the situation. _Freedom, the Independence crew is on board and accounted for_. _We're even heavy one cosmonaut_!

It took a second for the words to sink in and she felt her eyes slowly widen, a powerful wave of relief crashing over her as the rest of her comprehended the news just a few seconds faster than her brain.

The Independence crew is on board and accounted for.

AJ was ok, he was alive.

Tears welled up in her eyes again as the panic and fear faded from her chest and she took a deep breath as Rockhound spoke up. "Spectacular start to all of this. _Really_. That's great. Good omen."

Harry said, "We're all ok, Rock. I'll take it."

After a moment she looked towards the flight deck where their two pilots were speaking quietly to each other and she cleared her throat, calling up to them. "Colonel, Watts…thank you. Incredible flying."

Her crew mates mirrored her appreciation and Sharp glanced back at her, his eyes bright and alive with the flow of adrenaline he was no doubt feeling. He nodded at her and for the first time, having just seen his skill with her own eyes, she was beyond thankful that the man who she'd come to admire and respect…in more ways than one…was her pilot.

If it ever had been, it was no longer a mystery why he'd been chosen to fly one of the shuttles tasked with saving the world.

The next hour or so passed by in a bit of a blur as Sharp set them on course for the moon, the atmosphere amongst them starting to get drowsy—which was both surprising and _unsurprising_ , considering what they'd been through.

Even though she had her watch on the time it was displaying didn't mean very much. That was one thing she'd realized about being in space; without the rising and setting of the sun, time all seemed to blur together. There was no set time to sleep, no set time to wake up. Their rhythms were changing already and they'd been in space less than a day.

Truman's voice came across their ear-pieces and from the sound of it the events of the last couple hours had weighed just as heavily on him. He sounded truly exhausted. " _Ok, guys, uh…getting a request from the flight surgeon that you get some sleep. I know that's easier said than done but do what you can. MMACS officer says both shuttles are operating at a hundred percent, no damage from the emergency break-away or subsequent debris—"_

Charlotte couldn't help but tune him out, her entire body feeling tired and heavy. She wondered just how in the hell she was going to get _any_ sleep, seeing as how she couldn't even manage to fall asleep in a strange bed.

"How long is it to the moon?"

"Sixty hours, give or take."

"What are we gonna do in here for _sixty hours_?"

"Thank God we're alive? Seems like the logical thing to me, you know, considering."

She opened her eyes and looked over to Max, "We've been on planes for hours on end before. What did you do then?"

He blinked. "Watched movies and ate peanuts."

Chick let out a chuckle, "Guess you're outta luck, Maxie."

The big man made a face as Sharp literally floated over, using the backs of chairs to steady himself as he made his way over to her. Addressing the crew at large, he said, "You're going to wanna get some sleep while things are quiet."

Rockhound snorted, " _Quiet,_ he says. _Get some sleep_ , he says. A space station just blew up around us, but just _relax_ …"

The rest of Rock's rant was drowned out as Sharp lowered himself down to the floor beside her seat. There was still a mix of dirt and sweat on his face and he looked up at her. "You alright?"

"Yeah, thanks to you."

He shook his head, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You don't have to thank me."

"You saved my life, you saved _all of our lives_. Yes, I do."

"You don't have to thank me for anything."

"Because it's your job?"

Those electric blue eyes locked with hers and she felt her breath hitch.

He didn't need to speak the words out loud in order for her to hear them. What he was trying to express to her was glaringly obvious.

Whatever had sprouted up between them over those two weeks wasn't over or _gone_ simply because they were now in the middle of the mission they'd been training for. On the contrary, the feelings were there and she knew that when they returned home they'd both need to sit down and figure out exactly what it meant.

And to do that, they both needed to survive.

She needed them _all_ to survive.

To show him that she'd understood, she placed her hand on his shoulder and sent him a small smile.

Davis' voice through the speakers made her jump slightly. _Freedom, Independence is activating auto-pilot. We're all pretty exhausted over here. Reconnect with you at 0500._ Sharp looked up towards the command deck and said, "Watts? I'm off comm."

She didn't miss a beat. "Roger that, Independence. Freedom is right behind you. Sleep well."

Sharp moved away from her and addressed the whole crew in a clear voice, "Alright, gentlemen. We have a long trip ahead of us and we have to get rest where we can. Everyone grab a sleeping bag. You can set them up in your seats _or_ you can use the anchors and attach them to the walls in the marked areas. _Please_ remember to anchor yourselves down, we don't need people floating around and hurting themselves."

Attaching the sleeping bag to her seat with the included metal clips was relatively easy. Wrestling her way into it as she drifted around aimlessly, well, what was another matter altogether.

After a couple of minutes of struggling and cursing silently to herself, she settled into her sleeping bag and willed her tired and stressed out body to just _relax_. Even though her clothing was warm and the atmosphere inside the shuttle was geared towards their comfort, she couldn't deny that there was a coldness in the air; a chill that she'd never felt before, that seemed to penetrate down to her very bones.

She longed for a roaring fireplace, her old record player, and her collection of vinyls.

But she was in _space_.

And the only entertainment she had was watching Rockhound fight his way into his own sleeping bag a few seats away.

 **END**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon, its story, or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

Sorry to anyone that has been waiting on this chapter and sorry for it being on the shorter side. I came down with a wicked case of bronchitis and I'm finally feeling well enough to get some writing done. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Being confined in the small space of the shuttle presented it's challenges but they were kept busy with the little tasks that Houston kept sending them. The radio was constantly chattering, even when they were asleep, and if she was asked to take a count of their supplies one more time she was going to lose her mind.

Charlotte understood the reason for it, but come on; how many times could she tell their CAPCOM officer that they had the _same_ number of crates that they had an hour before? They were strictly sealed for use on the asteroid, they weren't gonna go anywhere.

She needed this to be over, she was starting to get feisty.

There was static in her ear-piece and Max's voice came through, " _Charlie, where are you?"_

"Cargo bay two."

" _Watts is lookin' for the reports on those supplies in there._ "

"Tell her I'll be back in a couple minutes."

" _She kinda wants them now."_

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Don't care, I'll be there in a couple minutes."

" _Dinner in ten, don't be late."_

She flipped up the first page on the clipboard so she could read what was underneath. "Let me guess; filet mignon, roasted potatoes, and white wine?"

" _Dried beef, re-hydrated spinach, and apple juice._ " She could hear the disgust in his voice and she couldn't help but smile. " _And brownies with something that looks like nuts on top for dessert."_

"Well, brownies sound normal enough."

" _You haven't seen them yet, believe me, they ain't normal at all."_

There was another patch of static as Max disconnected and Charlotte let out a breath, holding her clipboard tightly in her hands as she moved carefully from one set of crates to the next, using the piping in the ceiling to steady herself.

If there was one positive thing from being stuck in the confined space of the shuttle, it was the change in her and everyone else's comfort level—the lack of gravity no longer bothered them. Floating around had become commonplace and with every hour that passed, tasks that had been difficult in the beginning were getting easier and easier. Changing her clothes and getting into her sleeping bag was no longer a challenge, and getting through the shuttle's rather narrow corridors was no longer a contact sport.

With only twenty hours to go until they reached the moon, she had to wonder if the constant housekeeping from Houston wasn't simply a way to keep them distracted. She couldn't blame them if that were truly the case, in fact, she was appreciative of it. If she was busy, she couldn't think…and if she couldn't think, she couldn't panic. Plain and simple.

Music.

 _Wait, what?_

Her brow furrowed as music, honest to goodness _music_ , suddenly filtered through the shuttle's speakers.

Redbone's _Come And Get Your Love_ , one of her all-time favorite songs.

Wondering for a second if she was hearing things, she set her clipboard down on the nearest crate and floated towards the doorway, slowly making her way back into the main cabin. The others were looking just as stupefied as she was, staring up at the speakers in the ceiling.

Still smiling, she locked eyes with Harry. "Where is that coming from?"

He shrugged his shoulders just as Sharp cleared his throat, keying up his communicator. "Houston, this is Freedom. We're uh…getting _music_ through our internal PA system. Can I assume it's you and not a ghost in the machine?"

Davis spoke up suddenly, his voice a strange cross between someone who was amused and someone who had to stay straight-faced. " _Freedom, Independence. I don't think it's a ghost in the machine. We've got it over here, too."_

Charlotte couldn't help but chuckle quietly to herself as she imagined all the guys on Independence doing exactly what they were doing—staring up at the ceiling with furrowed brows. Sharp glanced over at her for a second as Truman's voice came through, sounding slightly sheepish as he spoke over the music. " _Uh, Freedom and Independence, yes, it's coming from us. We…have a tech on the floor here who was aiming for a bit of levity, perhaps a little misguidedly."_

Sharp stood for a moment and took a quick glance around, and even though Charlotte was far from a mind reader, she could see exactly what he was thinking.

They were all gathered together for the first time in hours and the atmosphere inside the shuttle had definitely eased in the couple of minutes that the music had been on. They were all stressed, they were tired, they were frustrated, they were _bored._

Yes, the music could be viewed as unprofessional to someone on the outside. But it was making his crew feel better and he could see it clearly with his own eyes.

It was also a _damn_ good song.

After a second, he said, "Houston, uh…if it's all the same to you, let's leave it on. Things have been pretty tense in here, some _misguided_ _levity_ might do us all some good."

Davis spoke up. _"Independence concurs with that, Houston. As long as the music stays good, we have no objections."_

There was a long pause and when Truman's voice came back over, saying, _"No objections here, either.",_ there was an audible release of breath amongst them. _"We'll make sure that Mason keeps the quality where you think it should be. Let CAPCOM know if you have any requests."_

Max opened his mouth but Charlotte beat him to it, holding up a hand at him. "You even _think_ the words _Johnny Cash_ and I'll hit you."

The big man snapped his mouth shut.

* * *

She couldn't sleep.

It was the last time they would get any real rest before landing on the asteroid in only a few hours and she _couldn't_ sleep, couldn't stop thinking long enough to just _relax_.

Her restlessness finally got the better of her and she slid out of her sleeping bag. The soft breathing and occasional snores of her crew mates filled the otherwise quiet space and not wanting to do something that might disturb them, she allowed herself to float silently up towards the shuttle's ceiling. The large observation window gave her a clear view of the endless space that surrounded them as well as the Independence that was cruising maybe a hundred or so feet away on their starboard side.

She wondered for a moment if she'd be able to catch sight of anyone—maybe Oscar or AJ—looking outside as she was, but she couldn't make anything out. They were all probably sleeping.

She suddenly felt a hand on the small of her back and jumped, quickly looking over her shoulder.

 _Will._

He floated up beside her. "Can't sleep?"

"I'm a little restless." She glanced over at him, instantly feeling better looking into his ice blue eyes. "You too?"

"I never sleep well when I'm up here, usually an hour or two at the most. I had some stuff I had to do anyway, figured now was a good time to get it done."

"Won't have time tomorrow?"

"Probably not." He let out a long breath and braced his forearm against the wall, looking intently out the window. "Looks peaceful out there."

"Yeah, I guess." Charlotte sighed. "It's all a lie though, isn't it?"

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"It's _not_ peaceful, I mean, not really. There are explosions and asteroids and black holes—" She paused and glanced over at him. "Those are real, right?" He smiled at her and she couldn't help but sigh again, looking back towards the window. "We go through life thinking that we're untouchable. It's kind of scary to find out that we're not."

Will didn't say anything for a moment or two but when he finally _did_ speak in a soft voice, she could tell that he chose his words carefully. "No one is untouchable, Charlie." It was the first time he'd called her by her beloved nickname and she looked over at him, her breath hitching in her chest. "We like to think we are. We tell each other that we are. But if there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that we're a lot smaller than we realise. Consider yourself lucky, you're one of maybe a thousand or so people who actually know it...and all of them work at NASA."

"I don't _feel_ lucky, Will. I'd rather be one of the billions that don't know anything."

"I guess that's where the saying _ignorance is bliss_ comes from."

"Yeah, that seems to be the motto of this whole experience."

He rubbed her back again. "You have to believe that we're going to get through this, you know. The more you think negative thoughts, the harder this is gonna be."

"You really think that _positive thoughts_ are going to make a difference?"

Will shrugged a shoulder. "I don't think it could hurt. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that."

"Yeah, I guess we could do with some good karma."

"Yes, we could. You should try and get some sleep. They'll be sending us a wake-up call soon."

"How soon?"

He glanced down at his watch. "An hour. Maybe two, if they're feeling generous."

Charlotte knew from experience that the technicians in Mission Control back in Houston, while very nice people, were _not_ generous; at least not in a manner that would provide them more sleep. They just didn't have the time for generosity.

And so she finally took his advice, sending him a small smile before making her way back towards her seat and sliding easily into her sleeping bag.

As she willed her body to relax, her eyes wandered until they landed on Harry in the next seat. Her adopted father didn't say a word but he appeared to be wide awake, their eyes meeting in the dim light.

It seemed that she wasn't the _only_ one who couldn't shut her mind off.

* * *

The next thing she was aware of was the sudden flash of light through her eyelids as the lights in the cabin flickered on. She raised a hand and covered her face, listening as the rest of her family was grudgingly pulled into consciousness.

She almost smiled to herself.

They all sounded like angry teenagers.

In a voice that was far too loud for her liking, Sharp yelled out, "Let's go, let's go, let's go! Get those sleeping bags stowed and get yourselves up, we have a big day—"

"He's a masochist." Rockhound looked beyond unhappy, frowning, with his hair in disarray as his head popped out from inside his sleeping bag. "A loud, star-spangly, mean old masochist."

All Charlotte could do was wave a hand at him before running a hand through her hair. Harry coughed lightly, saying, "Welcome to the Air Force, Rock."

"I'm an oil driller for a reason, Harry."

"Oil drillers have early mornings, too, though."

Rockhound's tired eyes widened as he looked over at her. "Whose side are you on, Charlie?"

All she could do was smile.

After stowing their sleeping bags and getting themselves changed, they sat together for a quiet breakfast consisting of fresh fruit, toast with margarine, and orange juice; not bad considering they were 239,000 miles from the nearest kitchen or food market. She couldn't say the same thing for the dried beef and the re-hydrated spinach from the night before-it had been disgusting-but she wasn't about to complain.

It wasn't like they could have eggs benedict in space.

 _Oh, eggs benedict sounds good._

She'd make sure that was the first thing she ate when they got home.

* * *

 _So while the consciousness of the planet is unified and focused on the NASA mission taking place right now in the vast ocean of space, we're now in the final hours of the mission as the Freedom and the Independence prepare to slingshot around the moon._

Julia Mercer sat forward on the couch and let out a breath, her eyes fixed on the face of the news anchor as he spoke. The coverage of the mission was on every channel in practically every language, and while she was thankful for the constant updates, she was exhausted and couldn't even _remember_ the last time she'd eaten.

The journey from Sheldon had been a complete whirlwind. The closer they got to Cape Canaveral, the harder things got; the highways were jammed, the hotels were packed, and the people they encountered were tense and afraid, openly crying and embracing in the streets.

A panic had set in and it was _everywhere_.

Using the emergency number that Will had given her, she'd called as soon as they'd arrived on the outskirts of the base and had been instructed to go to a nearby hotel that had been reserved for family members. She was relieved that they were finally among people who were going through the same thing and it also made her feel better to have direct access to people who knew what was going on with her brother.

Not that they were voluntarily giving information, though.

Quite the opposite, actually, which was only adding to her frustration.

A mug of steaming tea appeared on the coffee table in front of her and she heard Brian let out a breath as he slowly sat down beside her. "Thought you could use some tea. They say anything new?"

"They're getting ready to go around the moon."

"Anything about Will?"

As he gently started rubbing her shoulder, she shook her head. "No, nothing about any of them. I mean, he has to be ok, right? They'd say something if something had happened, wouldn't they?"

"They know where to find us if they need to. Will is good at what he does, Jules, he's gonna be ok."

She let out a little sniffle and turned to look at him, burying her face in his arm. "You really think so?"

"I _know_ so. You know what he's like—"

"Stubborn shit."

Brian laughed and she couldn't help but give a watery smile as started rubbing her shoulder again. "They picked him to do this for a reason."

She looked back towards the TV where the grainy image of the asteroid filled up the entire screen. If she had to hear one more _expert_ give their _expert opinion_ on the enormous hunk of rock that was threatening life as they knew it, she was going to lose her mind even more than she already had.

"I know they did." Her eyes fell on the closed door of the bedroom where their son was sleeping, having finally succumbed to his exhaustion after fighting it for practically their entire trip. Will was their son's hero, in every possible way, and she knew how hard it would be on Adam if something happened to him. How hard it would be on _all_ of them—their aunts, their uncles, their friends…Will's _children_. It was enough to make her sick. "I'm just wondering if this is all too much, even for Will."

"You can't be thinking things like that and you know it."

She let out a breath and rested her elbows on her knees, letting her face fall into her hands. "I know."

"Then drink your tea and I'll find us something to eat. I think they're keeping the restaurant open all night." He leaned over and placed a kiss on her temple before standing from the couch and slipping on his shoes.

Her eyes had settled back on the TV by the time Brian left the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

* * *

" _Morning, guys. It's time to suit up, I guess. We got a big day. Freedom, you got your ears on?"_

Will cleared his throat. "Yes, sir."

" _Colonel, I thought you'd like to know that your sister and her family have arrived safely. We've checked them into a hotel just outside the fence."_

A wave of relief crashed over him and he nodded, even though Truman couldn't see it. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

" _Watts' husband and son have arrived as well, if you could pass the message along."_

He glanced over to the co-pilot's seat where Watts was engrossed in paperwork. She didn't have her earpiece in. "Certainly, consider it done." Not even wasting a second, knowing that the news would bring his friend some much-needed relief, he said, "Watts, your husband and son are in the Cape; they've been checked into a hotel."

A very rare smile appeared on the younger woman's face and she looked over at him. "Thank you, that makes me feel better." Ignoring the chatter and somewhat maniacal laughter occurring behind them, she tossed the folder of paperwork up onto the console. "Your sister make it as well?"

"Yeah, she did. I'm surprised Truman told us, they don't normally deliver personal messages."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. What's that saying about teaching old dogs new tricks?"

He couldn't help but smile. "I guess there's an exception to every rule."

"I'm assuming that your children are there as well?"

As much as it pained him to admit it to himself, he had done everything possible to keep his two young daughters out of his mind. The thought of their little faces and their blue eyes, so much like his own, made his entire body seize with anxiety and the last thing he needed was to let his control slip for even the slightest second. He couldn't afford it. "The girls are in El Paso with their mother. Completely oblivious to all this, I'm hoping."

Watts looked sympathetic at his words and he tried not to take exception to it; he knew she meant well, that she felt bad for poking at what was obviously a festering wound. "Just gotta get through this and then we can join them."

"Yeah, amen to that." He called over his shoulder. "Alright, everyone get your suits on. We've got about fifteen minutes until we light the fuse on this thing."

 **END**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

As always, thanks to everyone for their reviews and their follows! I appreciate all the support this story has gotten. This chapter is a little on the shorter side but the next one is almost ready for posting, it should hopefully be done soon. I hope everyone enjoys their weekend!

* * *

She couldn't help but wonder if the old saying, the myth, was true. Did a person's life truly flash before their eyes in their moment of death? Did they spend their final seconds reliving their finest moments and thinking of the people that had brought them the most happiness?

Most people feared death. She could admit that it was scary not knowing what would come next. Would there be a great white light, an eternity spent in bliss? Or would there be something else waiting? A eternity spent in darkness and pain? The unknown, the world fading to that final and total blackness.

Much like _space_.

She was so sick and tired of _space_.

The shuttle gave a very sudden and somewhat violent tremor and she was startled back to the present, forcing herself to take a deep and calming breath. She could feel the nervous sweat gathering in the hollow of her throat but she tried her best to ignore it, her eyes going to the command deck when Will said, "Booster sequence confirmed."

" _This is Houston. Roger that, Freedom. We copy."_

"And radio's out." The Colonel sighed, addressing his co-pilot as he tugged on one of his straps. "Eleven minutes until we get it back."

"Eleven Gs?"

He nodded, glancing over his shoulder quickly. "Everyone brace yourselves." And then to Watts. "Stand by for lunar roll."

"High inclination. Lunar orbit."

And within seconds, they were in the middle of it.

She could feel the shuttle accelerate and turn sharply to the right, her fingernails nearly burying themselves into the arms of her chair as she nervously tightened her grip. She was consciously trying to regulate her breathing and keep her heart rate low, just as Will had instructed her to when he'd taken her flying for the first time; his smooth voice in her earpiece as he spoke to her from the cockpit of his plane.

It would be nice if she could have that support right then, she desperately needed it.

Will's ears must've been burning because it was at that moment that he called out to them all, his voice barely audible over the roar of noise as the shuttle inverted, the bright surface of the moon visible through the main window. "Alright, everyone, this is what we trained for! Stay calm and breathe!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Max make the sign of the cross over his chest.

"On my mark. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

The sudden burst of speed as the boosters fired nearly knocked her unconscious, the sheer force of it pushing her back into her seat.

"14,000 miles an hour!"

"Four Gs."

"How long does this last?!"

Rockhound let out a sudden yell as Will, who also sounded like he was feeling the pressure, ground out, "Six Gs."

There was a heavy pressure against her chest and she closed her eyes.

"Eight Gs. Hang tight!"

"We're not gonna make it!"

"Oh, we're gonna die!"

She wanted to scream back at Rockhound and Max to shut up, to keep their comments to themselves. It wasn't making their situation any better and she didn't want to hear it.

She remembered how it felt in the back of the Talon when they were training and how at the time she'd thought there could be no worse feeling in the world. It was astonishing how _wrong_ she'd been. She'd rather go up in that god-forsaken plane another thousand times than endure what she and the rest of her crew were enduring at that moment.

With each passing second, the pressure she was feeling intensified more and more and she barely felt it when her mouth opened in a silent scream. Or maybe she _was_ screaming, she didn't know.

The others were screaming, they had to be.

Her ears were ringing. Every bone in her body was aching so violently that she was sure they were going to shatter under her skin. Her blood felt like it was boiling, her throat was closing, her heart was pounding so hard and fast that it felt like it was going to explode in her chest.

They hadn't trained for _that_.

There's no way it was supposed to be like that, there was no way it was normal.

Something was wrong.

She didn't even hear it when Will yelled out, "Ten Gs!", his voice strained and rougher than it had ever been before. "We're maxed at 22, 500!"

And as quickly as it had built up, it was practically gone.

The pressure against her chest, the constriction of her throat, faded as the shuttle slowly smoothed itself out. The rattling that had thrown her around in her restraints reduced to an almost gentle hum.

She forced her eyes open and swallowed back the somewhat relentless flow of bile that had started inching it's way dangerously up the back of her throat.

There were a few moments of horrible silence before, _"Welcome back, team."_

Truman.

And at that moment, she hated the Executive Director with every fibre of her being.

There was the sound of fumbling from the command deck and she looked up, watching in somewhat confused fascination as the Colonel maneuvered his way out of his long sleeved shirt. Left in only a black t-shirt, the sheen of sweat on his arms was visible even in the dim light of the cabin.

Watts whispered something to him and he nodded before clearing his throat. "Everyone alright?"

And for the first time since the launch, there were no snappy comebacks or sarcastic responses to Sharp's question. There was heavy and somewhat panicked breathing. There was the occasional groan or sound of shifting as people moved around uncomfortably in their seats. But for the most part, there was silence.

Stunned, terrified, ill silence.

Seeming to take that silence for what it was, Sharp let out a loud breath. "Ok, let's get ourselves into position here." Watts nodded obediently beside him. "We have a visual of the target, Houston."

As the shuttles made their final turn around the backside of the moon, the tail of the asteroid finally came into view.

A massive hulk of rock, a million times larger than she had ever imagined.

As she, and everyone else, stared at it open-mouthed, she couldn't help but think of something Truman had said back in the boardroom. They'd been going over their flight plan and he'd said that they were hoping the asteroid's tail debris would be cleared by the moon's gravity. It seemed they'd been somewhat wrong about that. Large chunks of rock flew by them before crashing into the surface of the moon with an audible _boom_ , the surface erupting upwards with the force of the impact.

As Freedom came out of the turn, and the full bulk of the asteroid came into view, Harry spoke up in a quiet voice. "You see that?"

With the eerie red glow of the command console cast across his face, Sharp made quick eye contact with her over his right shoulder. She stared back at him, looking for some sort of reassurance. He seemed to recognize it because he sent her the smallest of nods as Rockhound breathed out a near silent, "Wow."

" _Freedom, turn on your FOD radar."_

Sharp pushed a button. "FOD radar on."

A sound that was familiar to her suddenly reached her ears as small pieces of rock started pelting against the front window, much like hail hitting the windshield of a car. She couldn't help but grip her armrests again as Sharp directed the shuttle, with Independence somewhere alongside them, closer and closer to the backside of the asteroid.

Charlotte tried to ignore the incessant beeping coming from their radar as Sharp, assisted by Watts, maneuvered them through the field. "Goddamn! We got debris."

"We're dumping auxiliary boosters."

There was a light shudder as the boosters fell away and Charlotte focused her eyes on the front window, where the asteroid was getting larger and larger the closer they got.

She didn't know what it was worth or if it would help, but she sent every bit of luck and good energy she had left in her to the two people sitting in the command seats.

They were both focused, startlingly so, and she couldn't help but be thankful for it. She wondered if she'd be able to perform under such pressure with such high expectations, and after a second of thinking about it, she knew that she probably wouldn't.

While she was expected to perform under pressure on their mission, she had her father and her family to help see her through it. If there was something she didn't know or something she couldn't do alone, she could go to anyone there with her and get the help she needed; someone on Harry's crew would always have the answer. Sharp and Watts only had each other to rely on. They were the only ones who knew how to fly that beast of a shuttle and _make it dance,_ as Bear would say…and she respected them both greatly for it.

" _We're hit!"_

She was cruelly brought back to reality and her breath caught in her throat.

" _Mayday! Mayday, Freedom, mayday! We're out of control. We are going down!"_

There was a collective shout from everyone onboard Freedom when a massive hulk of something passed by the front window, dangerously close to hitting their shuttle's nose.

The terrible pit in her stomach was almost unbearable and she didn't need to hear it spoken to know what that so–called _hulk_ was.

Oscar. Bear. Noonan.

AJ.

Independence.

There was a sudden burst of speed and the nose of Freedom suddenly moved upwards as Sharp pulled back on the control column, trying desperately to get them over the Independence as it tumbled below them and out of sight.

The alarms on their radar were going off and Sharp yelled out, "We're gonna hit!"

There was a shudder and then a tremendous scraping noise as the bottom of the shuttle grazed one of the larger pieces of rock, each and every one of them flying around in their restraints. The flashes of light forced Charlotte's eyes closed and in the milliseconds she had to think about it, she was thankful. She didn't want to see.

" _Good luck, Freedom."_

And with Davis' three words, their situation was brought into stark focus.

There was a short and horrific sounding scream heard through their earpieces and then there was static, an ominous silence that finally brought tears to Charlotte's eyes.

The Independence could just barely be seen through their front window, spinning wildly out of control with bright blue flames still firing from its engines. Charlotte was trying very hard to contain the sobs that wanted to burst out of her as Harry's voice rang out. "Sharp, what the hell is that? Is that the Independence?"

And when the body slammed against the glass, the blue flight suit of a pilot just visible before it disappeared, she couldn't help but cry out, raising a shaking hand to cover her mouth. Chick reached across the small space between their seats and placed a comforting hand on her arm, his gloved fingers squeezing...he too needed comfort.

They were gone. Half of her family.

Just like _that_.

Bear. Noonan.

Oscar and AJ.

The big old mush-monster that Bear was. The one who was always willing to sneak her candy before dinner or help her with her homework; he was astonishingly good at math, even though he never really showed anyone.

Noonan, who had some of the most graphic tattoos she'd ever seen. They'd been the source of constant giggling when her and Grace were younger but had taken on a strange magnificence the older they got.

Oscar. The blonde-haired happy cowboy from El Paso who had tried with all his might to teach her how to ride a horse, despite her sometimes overwhelming clumsiness. Hell, he'd even recruited his own chocolate brown stallion—whom he'd affectionately named Peso—to assist in the cause. To that day, the horse wouldn't come near her unless first bribed with apples and sugar cubes.

And AJ. The man who was more like a big brother to her than anyone else ever had been. The one she fought with the most, the one she competed with the most…the one who always defended her, no matter what, even if she was the one who was wrong.

Her sister's fiance. The love of her sister's life.

 _What am I going to tell Grace?_

She whimpered into her gloved hand and tried hard to stifle the noise as Sharp said, "Houston, Independence is a dead stick. They're not gonna make it." After a second, he looked over to Watts and spoke forcefully. "When I touch this baby down, full reverse thrust."

"Fires on your right, Sharp!"

"Reversing the thrusters!" The sound of the thrusters roaring as they tried to slow the shuttle down was deafening and Charlotte leaned her head back against the headrest. "Hang tight! Hang tight!"

She felt Chick squeeze her arm again and she opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him.

"Houston, we overshot our landing field. We _overshot_ our landing field."

Rockhound yelled, "Oh no!" as Watts reached up and flipped yet another switch, the landing gear lowering beneath them a noticeable feeling through the floor.

And as Freedom finally made contact with the surface of the asteroid, Chick's hand was pulled away from her as the shuttle landed nose first into what looked like meter high spikes of ice; every single one of them smashing against them as they skidded along, the thrusters working hard to bring them to a stop.

After a few more seconds the shuttle finally came to rest and each and every one of them was breathing heavily in their seats.

Sharp, who was out of breath himself, said, "Initiate system light system check. Make sure we can still get off this rock."

Watts scanned the glowing indicator lights above the console carefully. "Our electrical system is screwed. I'm going to back-up." She pushed a button and the entire cabin lit up with an eerie blue light. Charlotte blinked her tired and burning eyes, raising a hand to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "Fuel seals, check. Engine seals, check. Pressure seals, check."

Without missing a beat, Sharp spun around in his chair and looked around at each of them. "Anyone hurt?"

Rockhound, who visibly had tears in his own eyes, ignored the question entirely. "Where's…where's the other shuttle? What happened to the other shuttle?"

Sharp quickly removed his restraints and stood up, brushing by Rockhound's chair. "Independence is off the grid."

" _Off the grid_?" Rockhound reached a hand up in an effort to grasp the Colonel's sleeve but he kept walking, pulling his arm out of Rock's grip. "What _are_ you? A friggin' cyborg? What does _that_ mean?"

"Hey—" Gruber knelt down in front of Rockhound's chair, his face impassive. "You saw it yourself, right? They're gone."

Charlotte had a moment where all she wanted to do was start yelling and screaming at those two men—Sharp and Gruber. Their manly stoicism was making her sick.

Eight men had just died, eight human beings, and they were completely without emotion.

They were cold as stones.

The logical part of her brain told her that they were actually the smart ones. They'd just landed on the asteroid, they were now _literally_ the only hope the world had; they had to keep their heads together, they _had_ to get the job done. They didn't have time to mourn their family, that would have to come later.

But that didn't stop her from being angry at them. It didn't stop her from being hurt.

"Gruber," She swallowed hard and when he looked over at her she had to try very hard to keep herself composed. She could hear Sharp moving around behind them, whether or not he was listening she had no idea. "Some compassion would be nice. They meant something to us."

"Let's just ask God to take care of our friends." All eyes went to Harry, who's overwhelmingly sad face was cast in a glaring blue light. "May they rest in peace."

And as Harry undid his restraints, Chick said a very quiet and heartfelt, "Amen."

 **END**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or any of the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

Bit of a language warning on this one. I dropped another f-bomb.

* * *

Charlotte quickly stood from her seat and moved to stand behind Max, placing what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder as the big man fought to get out of his own restraints.

"We got eight hours." Her eyes flew up to Harry as he looked around at them all, his body-language giving away how tumultuous his emotions really were. "Let's get this job done and go home."

There was an unspoken agreement at that moment amongst those that were left.

They were going to put everything aside—their anger and their grief—and do whatever they needed to do to get themselves home. If there had been any remaining tolerance for that mission after everything they'd already been through, it was at that moment that it evaporated. They'd lost four people they cared about, _four_ _of_ _them_ , and doing anything else but successfully kicking that asteroid's ass was unacceptable.

If they failed? Then all those on board Independence had died for nothing.

As Charlotte busied herself with opening the floor hatch that led into the lower cargo bay where the Armadillo was stored, Harry said, "Alright, let's get the tools unpacked and fire up the Armadillo."

She nodded at him. "Hopefully it wasn't damaged."

"We're not getting a damn thing on the inertial NAV system—"

Rockhound was studying a nearby panel carefully, his eyes set. "I know where we are."

"Please step away." Sharp unceremoniously pushed him out of the way and leaned down, bracing his hands on the console. "Radio signal is dead."

Watts went storming by, a clipboard in her hands. "I'm flipping the backup generator. Radio signal's gonna be cut in half until we get main power back."

And then she was gone, disappearing through a doorway that Charlotte knew led to the main electrical panels.

She worked on securing the hatch as Rockhound, who had grabbed a stack of thermal photos, set them down with authority on a back-lit table just to Charlotte's left. "We're in segment 202, lateral grid 9, site 15H-32, give or take a few yards." He motioned towards Sharp somewhat bitingly. " _Captain America_ here blew the landing by twenty-six miles."

Her eyes went to Sharp, who hung his head for a moment before turning around to face them all. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I'm a genius."

Rockhound's response was so pointed and so full of ' _well duh'_ that Charlotte might've laughed if they'd been anywhere else _doing_ anything else.

Watts appeared suddenly in the doorway. "The gauges _will_ _not_ read. They're all peaked like we're plugged into some sort of magnetic field."

"Well who on this spaceship wants to know _why_?"

"By all means."

"The reason we were shooting for grid 8 was because thermographics indicated that grid 9 was compressed iron ferrite."

There was a beat of silence and she was sure she was the only one who spotted the flash of uncertainty pass across Sharp's stern face.

There wasn't much when it came to the sciences, regardless of branch, that Rockhound didn't excel at. An ex-Princeton professor with a double-doctorate in chemistry and geology, the man truly _was_ a genius. His level of knowledge was sometimes overwhelming and _always_ slightly terrifying and that moment was no different.

Having studied the thermographics herself over the course of those two weeks, she knew immediately that he wasn't just posturing. He was _right_.

And when he drove the point home a second later with, "Which means you landed us on a goddamn iron plate," a collective shudder passed through the entire group.

She felt someone's eyes on her and it took her less than a second to realize whose they were. Sharp was staring at her, openly, in front of the entire crew; but it wasn't a look of affection or fondness. It was a _commander_ —who appeared to have made the biggest mistake he could ever possibly make—looking to someone he trusted, asking that someone for some sort of reassurance.

And in that moment, she didn't know what to say.

She didn't believe in her heart that he'd made a mistake. Labeling it as a _mistake_ implied error on his part—some sort of pilot or human error that placed their somewhat distressing situation solely at his feet. He'd been fighting the shuttle, the asteroid, the loss of the Independence…all the while trying to get them to their landing site, _any_ landing site, in one piece. He'd saved their lives, plain and simple.

The crew of the Freedom _owed him their lives_ , and if they were successful, the rest of the world would owe him, too.

No mistake. Just bad luck and overwhelming odds.

But the thermographics didn't lie…and she couldn't lie to _him_.

"He's right. I've been studying the thermographics all week with Oscar—" Her voice caught slightly on her friend's name and she paused for a second, swallowing hard. "They ran tests our entire second week and we still don't know whether or not the ferrite will eat away at the bits, so they chose grids 5 and 8 to be safe."

Chick frowned. "Why _two_ grids?"

"Two landing sites. One for us, one for Independence."

A heaviness fell over them for a moment before Sharp, who she could tell was trying to shake off their current condition as best as he could, put on a somewhat brave face. "Alright. Well, you heard them. Let's wheel out the remote satellite link. We need that radio."

The second the words were out of his mouth the whole lot of them started moving with what appeared to be a renewed purpose. Charlotte slowly rose to her feet and she was about to follow Harry and Max into the nearest cargo bay when a strong set of fingers wrapped themselves around her forearm.

Sharp shook his head at her, indicating that he wanted to wait to speak until everyone else was out of earshot.

Chick was the last to cross the doorstep into the cargo bay where she knew they were busy unpacking the rig and Sharp leaned close to her, speaking quietly. "I'm sorry about the Independence. Frost and Choi especially, I know how much they all meant to you."

She didn't trust her voice not falter, so she said nothing.

"Tell me the truth, did I fuck this up?"

She stared hard at him, her eyes set. " _You_ didn't do anything, it was an accident." He pulled away from her and shook his head, as if he was going to argue, and she spoke over him. "Will, it was an _accident_. You think we all don't know that you wouldn't have landed here if you'd had the choice?"

"Are you going to be able to drill through this?"

She wanted to tell him that they would, that Harry wouldn't let them fail. She wanted to tell him to have faith in their rig, in them, that their landing site wouldn't matter.

But the geologist _and_ the driller inside her knew that she couldn't say those things and be one-hundred percent truthful.

So she settled for what she thought.

"We won't know until we get out there and start. Focus on what needs to be done to get us home and we'll deal with the rest for now, ok?"

Aware that it was completely inappropriate and that the timing couldn't be worse—but not caring in the slightest—she reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning and heading towards the cargo bay.

* * *

" _Houston, do you read? This is Freedom."_

Watts' voice echoed throughout the cargo bay as they all put on their helmets, the drilling equipment and Armadillo already sitting on the large ramp that would lower them down from the belly of the shuttle to the surface of the asteroid.

Max was sitting comfortably in the Armadillo…Rockhound, Sharp, and Gruber were behind her…Harry was on her right, Chick was on her left.

Sharp's voice came through their earpieces. "Is everyone ready to go?"

Harry nodded beside her. "We're ready. Lower the ramp."

There was a loud mechanical whirring sound as the ramp activated, lowering the group of them out of the relative protection of the shuttle and out into the open.

And as their new environment slowly came into view through their thick visors, Charlotte couldn't help but widen her eyes.

During their training, Oscar had once asked what the asteroid would be like if they somehow managed to land. Truman's response had been one of assorted horrors—extreme temperatures and razor sharp rock amongst the most memorable of them—and Oscar had simply referred to it as the _scariest environment imaginable._

And as she stood there seeing it all for the first time with her own eyes, she knew that Oscar's prediction had been correct.

"Down here! In the valley!" Harry waved them all over, pointing to an area of rock only a short distance away from the shuttle. The ground was relatively smooth and considering the rest of their immediate surroundings were completely impassible it was the safest and most reasonable place to start drilling.

They followed him down a small hill and Charlotte turned to wave a hand at Max. He returned the gesture, showing that he had seen and was following her direction. "Careful, Max. That hill might give way under the weight."

"We aiming for the middle, Harry?"

"We're aiming for wherever you have the most space. Remember, we gotta store all the pipes and extra bits somewhere nearby."

As Max maneuvered the Armadillo into position, Rockhound was wandering a short distance away with a gauge in his hands. It was a device that Charlotte was familiar with; a heavy reader with various indicator lights, as well as a large metal stake that when pushed into the ground would determine exactly what a particular sample of soil or rock was made up of. It would then light up the appropriate lights. It helped lead to more accurate results for geologists and better drilling locations for drillers.

At that moment, Rockhound was filling both roles. "This place is like Dr. Seuss' worst nightmare."

Charlotte focused her attention back on the task at hand as Max slowly and carefully brought the Armadillo through, Chick now directing him. "To the left! Bring it to the left!"

"Rockhound, you come on down here and take some readings down in the flat spot."

Rockhound moseyed his way down into the valley and stuck the stake down into the surface, waiting for the indicator lights. "Iron ferrite."

Charlotte, who was carrying a miniature pickax, knelt down carefully on one knee and ran her gloved ringers over a nearby rock. She took a few quick swings with the axe and watched as the rock blew apart, reacting in a way she'd never seen before. But the more she thought about it the more sense it made. This was, after all, space rock; a _sample_ that had come from who-knew where and had traveled through space for who-knew how long.

There was definitely iron but it wasn't Earth iron, it was something else.

"Mostly iron, Rockhound."

Harry's voice rang out from somewhere just behind her and she nodded her head. "Yeah, over here, too."

"God, I _hate_ knowing everything." Rockhound sounded genuinely unhappy. "We couldn't have picked a worse spot to drill."

"Well, I can pretty much guarantee it's not gonna be thicker than fifty feet."

"How do you figure that?"

Harry's visor was fogging up slightly with his breath. " 'Cause if it is, we're screwed."

Knowing what the answer would be before she even asked the question, Charlotte decided to take the plunge and ask anyway. "Hey, Rock? Would it help if we moved to a different spot? Maybe there's another…valley or something near here."

"Charlie, you saw the photos—the _entire grid_ is gonna be like this and we don't have the time to walk to another one."

"Yeah…yeah, I know." She sighed. "Just trying to look for a bright spot, that's all."

"We're on an asteroid in outer space, kiddo. Pretty sure the only bright spot we got is you."

The suit prevented her from looking over her shoulder so Charlotte had to turn her _entire_ upper body to look over towards Chick, sending him a small and thankful smile.

There was a loud _boom_ as Max fired charges into the ground in preparation for drilling and Charlotte started making her way back towards the Armadillo, listening as Harry asked, "Max, you good?"

"Yeah, just making hole."

"Turn it around!"

"Friggin' outer space."

She moved to stand between Harry and Rockhound as the massive drill arm slowly lowered towards the surface, sparks flying the second the drill bit made contact. She was used to noise, the high-pitched screaming as they broke ground; but the noise that reached her ears at that moment, while a welcome sound indicating that they'd finally gotten started, sounded anything but normal.

"Alright, we're in. Bring another light." Harry watched the spinning drill head closely. "We're cuttin' through pretty good."

"Alright, let's punch it down!" The drill arm shook suddenly and there was a loud scraping noise as metal grinded against metal. It set her teeth on edge. "Hey, Harry, did you see that?"

"Yeah, Max, I see it. What is it?"

"We lost the bite off the bit!"

"Alright, back it off—" Max gestured wildly inside the cabin of the Armadillo and Charlotte let out breath, watching as Harry took a step closer to the still shaking drill arm. "Sounds like we twisted a shank. Back it outta there, Max."

As the arm slowly raised up out of the hole, Charlotte, Rockhound, Chick, and Harry all stood around it…staring down at the eaten away metal with varying degrees of disbelief on their faces.

"Wow. This is a goddamn Greek tragedy."

"We've all seen broken drill heads before."

Chick looked up, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. "Not after ten feet."

"I dunno, Harry." Charlotte rested her gloved hand on the still smoking drill head. "Looks like we're gonna need something with a little more kick."

Chick nodded, a small smirk on his face. "What do you want?"

And in a voice that Charlotte recognized far too well—full of determination and grit—Harry said, "Unpack the Judge."

* * *

Sharp let out a long breath and pulled off his helmet, instantly feeling better as the cool air of the cargo bay blew across his tired and sweaty face.

The drilling had begun…Watts was still fighting with their fried radio and video feeds…and he and Gruber had their work cut out for them trying to set up the satellite. Each and every one of them was busy and he was thankful for the few precious seconds he had to himself as he crossed the bay, setting his helmet down on a nearby workbench.

The battery that had been loaded into the satellite receiver before it had been packed on board the shuttle was dead and Sharp now had the joyous task of tracking down a spare. He didn't know where they had ended up in the chaos prior to the launch but knew that they were somewhere in bay two, knowing for a fact that Charlotte had catalogued everything in bay one and the spare batteries hadn't been on her list.

Gruber's voice came through his earpiece. " _Colonel, I can't get the signal to line up."_

"Hook the receiver up with the antenna and _wait_ until it lines up, it might take a while."

" _That's what I'm saying; the receiver and the antenna are already hooked up but it won't keep the connection long enough for a full download."_

"Goddammit." Sharp pulled off a glove and ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "Keep working. I'll find the battery and be out as soon as I can."

He tried to think of the most logical place the batteries would be and started his search, trying not to think about just how many crates he'd have to go through.

To say that he was low on patience would be an understatement.

He'd never once expected that their mission would be easy, he wasn't nearly that naïve. He knew going in that it would be difficult and would test him in ways he never thought possible, and on some level, he was ok with that. He thrived on opportunities to push his own limits and see how far he could go—he supposed most pilots were like that in one way or another. Always striving for greater speeds, greater heights, and longer distances.

He remembered well General Kelso's final words to him just seconds before he'd boarded the bus to leave for Kennedy.

 _At some point during this mission, you'll find out exactly what it is you're made of._

He only hoped whatever he was made of would be up to the task.

The loss of the Independence had made him feel unsure of himself for the first time since he'd gotten the call nearly two weeks before. Will Sharp was a confident man; confident in his abilities and his aptitude for keeping things together, but he'd be lying if he said that the loss of Davis and Tucker, hell _all_ of them, wasn't weighing heavily on his heart.

It felt like only yesterday that Davis had stopped by his room and had smiled like a proud father when he'd described the upcoming fourteenth birthday of his son.

Brian and Bernadette Davis had most likely heard the news already, that their father and husband wasn't coming home, and while Sharp knew that there was absolutely nothing he could've done to prevent what had happened to the other shuttle, he couldn't help but feel responsible. He was the most senior officer on the mission—having a little more than two years' experience on Davis—and it had been his responsibility. They were _all_ his responsibility, even if they didn't know it.

"Sharp! I'm getting something!"

Watts' voice rang out and he was moving before he was even aware of it.

He crossed back into the main cabin just as Watts was sending Houston the coordinates of their current position and he took the radio-phone from her hand forcefully, looking into the camera as he spoke. "We're also having electric and antenna difficulties. But we _have_ commenced drilling. Shuttle flight capability not yet known." There was a sudden patch of static. "Houston? Houston—" He handed the phone back to Watts, trying to reign in his frustration. "We lost 'em. Get them back." And he turned on his heel, adjusting his earpiece as he said, "Gruber, we need that hookup."

* * *

It was a few minutes before midnight when the phone in their hotel room rang, loud enough to rouse her from a restless sleep. She heard her husband answer in the next room and she jumped out of bed, emerging into the bright light of their small sitting area.

Adam was sitting in the overstuffed armchair, his eyes having been set on the TV.

"Yes, she's here." Brian looked up at her and held the phone out. "It's for you, someone from NASA—"

Julia crossed the room in three quick strides and took the phone, pressing it to her ear. "This is Julia Mercer."

" _Mrs. Mercer, this is Chris Watney. Assistant to NASA's Executive Director."_

"Is my brother alright? I saw the news earlier about the crash but they didn't say anything—"

" _Colonel Sharp is alright, Mrs. Mercer. He landed his shuttle safely and established communication with us about two hours ago."_

The relief she felt was so strong that she had to reach a hand out and steady herself on the back of Adam's armchair. Her son turned around quickly to look at her with eyes full of concern but she sent him a small smile, as if to say _I'm ok._ "Thank god."

" _Obviously I can't go into details about what exactly is happening right now, but the Director has asked that we contact the families of crew members to update them."_

"Mr. Watney—" She swallowed hard. "I'll understand if you can't tell me anything but I have to ask, seeing as how he and my brother are friends. Colonel Davis? Timothy Davis. Did he—"

" _Mrs. Mercer, I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to discuss other crew members."_

"I understand, I do, but please. He's a friend, I know his wife. I just want to know if he's alright."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Julia had a feeling that he was considering answering her.

She wanted to reassure him that she could be trusted, that she wasn't going to use the information for any purpose other than to know if a good man was alive. But she knew from past experiences with NASA that the more a person spoke, the more likely it was that any information they were given would be the bare minimum.

And for Julia Sharp-Mercer, the _bare minimum_ wasn't nearly good enough.

Watney sighed and spoke very slowly, choosing his words carefully. _"Colonel Davis was killed, his shuttle crashed on approach to the asteroid. There were no survivors._ "

Her stomach dropped slightly. "And Charlotte Scofield? She's a…consultant of some sort, I think."

" _Ms. Scofield was on the shuttle with Colonel Sharp. She's alive. Mrs. Mercer, please understand that what I've told you tonight is need-to-know only. While the world knows that_ one _of the shuttles crashed, official news hasn't been released as of yet, pending notification of next of kin for all those on board. I'm asking for and expecting your discretion."_

"Yes, of course."

" _Director Truman understands that these circumstances are unprecedented and wants to keep family members informed. All we ask for is your cooperation."_

She nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "You have it."

" _We'll contact you again in another couple of hours, once we have more information to share."_

His tone of voice indicated that the conversation had come to an end and she made eye contact with her husband as she said, "Ok, thank you, Mr. Watney." Once the line went dead, she hit the end button and tossed the cordless down onto the sofa. "Will's alive, Charlotte too." She paused for a moment. "Tim Davis is dead."

"So the news was right about the crash."

"I can't even imagine what Bernadette is going through, I wish I could call her."

"You've done all you can do for right now. Come on—" He patted the empty space on the sofa beside him. "Sit down. Did you even sleep?"

Before Julia could open her mouth to respond there was a loud and somewhat panicked sounding knock on the door. The two adults stared at each other before she crossed the room, pulling the door open slowly. She couldn't stop the truly stunned expression that took over her face at the sight of the beautiful blonde standing there in the hallway.

"Melanie?"

Her ex-sister in law dropped her duffel bag to the floor with a loud thud and pulled Julia into a hug, breathing heavily into her shoulder. "Oh, Julia, thank _god_. I saw your car out front and practically had to bribe the guards at the front desk to get your room number."

"Melanie, what are you _doing_ here?"

"I was watching the news and just couldn't stand it anymore." They mutually pulled apart and Melanie took a deep breath, sending a quick wave to Brian and Adam. "What have you heard? Is he alright?"

"He's alive, they landed a couple of hours ago. Where are the girls?"

"I left them with my parents. I didn't think they could handle the drive and I'd rather them swimming and baking cookies than seeing all of this." She hesitated for a second, speaking in a softer voice. "And I didn't think Will would want them here…with everything going on."

Julia thought on that for a second before snapping back to reality, pulling the door open all the way and waving Melanie inside. "Come in, you must be exhausted." Melanie bent to pick up her bag and Julia used the opportunity to send her husband a covert glance over the other woman's shoulder.

The _tone_ of Will's divorce had never been a secret and there was a certain awkwardness in the air as Melanie set herself down on the arm of the couch.

After a second of silence, she looked back to Julia with an expectant expression on her face. "So, what's been going on?"

* * *

"Guys, the clock is tickin'! Let's go, go, go, go, go!"

Charlotte, along with Chick and Harry, used all their combined strength to tighten the new drill head on the Armadillo's arm, the heavy metal biting at her fingers through the material of her gloves.

"Alright, Chick. Give me a little more torque on the turbine, huh?"

The drill started whining as Chick pushed forward the appropriate lever, Charlotte standing beside him and locking it into place. "All good, Chick?"

He nodded, glancing over at her. "Lookin' good, just keep it steady there."

"Max, I need some more power down here! Throw it in fourth and drop the hammer!"

Even from where she was standing, she could see the grin that spread across Max's face at their boss' words. "Let's drill through this turd."

"Come on, boys and girls. We gotta hop! We're fallin' behind."

There was a loud and sudden whine from the drill and Charlotte and Chick looked at each other just as Max called out to them. "Hey guys, the tranny's stuck." The whine got louder and the entire drill arm was shaking. "Chick! Come on, help! Release the clutch!"

Charlotte watched as Chick moved quickly towards the control levers, grabbing hold of the clutch and trying his hardest to wrench it back. She could see that his arm was shaking with the effort and as she moved to help him, he spoke in a rough voice. "Ok. Well this thing's not movin'."

Sparks were flying from the tranny and Charlotte was maybe two feet away from reaching Chick's right side when it blew, the force of the explosion throwing both her and Chick off their feet.

There was a flash of panic as she flew through the air and she was unable to hold in a groan when her back slammed into the ground a dozen or so feet from where she'd been. She felt a sharp pain course through her shoulder blades and fought to remain still, fought to keep her breathing even.

"This is not workin' out, Harry."

And as if called into existence by Max's words, Harry appeared beside her, kneeling down and placing a hand palm-down on her shoulder. "You alright?"

"Its my back. I just…need a minute." She looked up at him. "Transmission?"

The look on his face said it all and she moved to sit up, feeling Harry's hands on her shoulders as he helped her into a sitting position. "Come on, god—" He muttered quietly. "Just a little help. That's all I'm askin'."

And it was Max that answered, saying, "I think we're close enough, he might've heard you."

 **END**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

It was a tight fit inside the elevator with all three of them in there and Charlotte squeezed herself into a tiny space behind Harry and Chick, her back pressed against the thick glass.

The blown transmission was weighing heavily on all of them and Charlotte was trying hard to stay positive, to keep her mind in the right place and on the right track. It was a setback, probably the first of many, and they had no choice but to deal with it as they always did. They'd power through.

"Ok, we gotta move fast. You two go for the hoist line and get it untangled, we'll need it to lift the tranny into position on the arm. I'll get the transmission loaded." They both nodded and she watched as Sharp activated the door release for the elevator. As it slid open, Harry said, "Let's get it unpacked."

Chick left the elevator first and Charlotte fell into step quickly behind him—listening, but trying to appear as if she weren't—as the two main men in her life started a rare and somewhat terse conversation.

"What's up?"

"We're drilling through some kind of metal I've never seen before. It's fried two of our drill bits and now we blew our first transmission."

"So how deep are we?"

"We could use your help with the transmission, Colonel."

Charlotte and Chick busied themselves nearby with the thick material straps that were holding the supply crates in place; Chick was doing what he could to loosen them for her and then the two of them would work together to lift the crate free. She knew exactly what crate the hoist line was in and they were digging for it, the both of them looking wryly at each other as if to say _'why does the box we need always end up on the bottom?'_.

Harry was walking with a purpose towards the area of the bay where their limited supply of fresh transmissions were stored with Sharp hot on his heels. "I have an assessment report due _now_. We're supposed to be a two-hundred feet, so…how deep are we?"

Chick nudged her shoulder. "I'm gonna head over and help your dad. You ok here?"

The undertone of Chick's words weren't lost on her and she was happy that he seemed to recognise, just as she did that, the conversation between Harry and Sharp could take a turn for the worst quickly.

They both knew Harry very well and his avoidance of the Colonel's questions, as well as his rising voice, were indicators that something was reaching a boiling point. There was frustration amongst all of them—Harry because breaking through the first hundred feet had never before been so difficult…and Sharp because he had people to report to who were expecting fast results and regular updates.

And while Harry understood that Sharp had rules to follow, he didn't give a shit about updating anyone.

She sent Chick an understanding nod and he stood quickly, disappearing from her side. She listened hard to the heavy footfalls of his boots as he crossed the floor but his sudden presence between the two quarrelling men did nothing to ease the growing tension.

Harry's voice rose again. "Not as deep as we'll be when you quit askin' me these questions and help us load this transmission on."

"What is our current depth?"

" _Our current depth_ is not important, Colonel."

" _I'll_ decide what's important." Sharp raised his own voice in kind. "We've got eight-hundred feet to drill. You've had two and a half hours. _Where are we_?"

There was a very heavy pause before Harry finally answered.

"We're at fifty-seven feet."

Charlotte's hands stilled and she slowly rose to her feet, her eyes going from Harry to Sharp and back again as she waited for some sort of response.

She could tell from the look on Harry's face and the sweat on his brow that he was taking their inability to drill through the iron ferrite extremely personally and she knew him well enough to know that that would do nothing but motivate him even more.

Sharp, on the other hand, _didn't_ know those things.

"Now if you're not too busy, maybe you can give us a hand with this transmission."

No, Sharp didn't know those things at all.

Without a word he turned on his heel and stormed from the bay, Harry calling out after him.

"Colonel Sharp!" Charlotte moved to follow him, thinking that she could talk some sense into him, but Harry pointed a stern finger at her. "Don't you move. Find that hoist line." He looked to Chick and motioned quickly to the transmission. "Get this strapped up, I'll be right back." And then he was walking, his voice reverberating throughout the bay as he took off after Will. "Colonel Sharp!"

The moment they were alone, Chick and Charlie looked at each other—Chick's eyes surprisingly stoic and Charlie's wide and anxious.

Chick nodded towards the storage crates. "You best find that line before he gets back, kiddo."

Having the sense to know that the older man was right, she knelt back down and got to work, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head that was telling her Harry and Sharp would end up throwing punches before everything was said and done.

They worked in silence for only a moment or two longer before the shouting started, Harry and Sharp's voices ringing out loudly enough that Charlotte and Chick both dropped what they were doing and started following the noise.

The eerie blue haze that filled the main cabin made her blink as she tried to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness but she knew where she was going and she could feel Chick following along loyally behind her.

She heard Watts speaking from far off. "We're losing coms again."

"Look. Is he getting this? Does he hear me or—what's wrong with this?" _._

They both came to a stop and settled themselves near the command deck, watching the entire spectacle through the doorway to the communications room.

Harry was holding the radio phone to his ear and Sharp walked up to him, practically ripping it from his hand. "The com's down."

"What do you mean, the com's down?"

"What do I mean? I mean we've lost communication with mission control!"

"Fine, then let's go back to the cargo bay and get the transmission loaded—"

And then Sharp was in his face, less than a foot of space between them. Charlotte felt herself tense and Chick placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey Harry, guess what. You had your shot. You didn't do it. You understand me?"

And then they were both shouting, their words practically incoherent as she stood there watching. Chick's grip on her shoulder tightened and she forced herself to stand still.

As always, it was Harry that made the first move.

With the younger man in his face once again, Harry didn't even hesitate before striking out with a hand and shoving the Colonel down into a chair. Sharp sprang right back up, his face furious.

"Write a report, why don't you?! That'll be a real big help!" Harry crossed the step onto the command deck. "My men and I will go and get this hole dug!"

" _You_ and _your men_ are the biggest mistake in the history of NASA!"

Even though the words weren't directed solely at her, she couldn't help the flash of hurt that shot through her. She felt as if someone had just gone to work on her stomach with a giant apple corer and her eyes narrowed against her will.

The two men stood there staring at one another, both equally livid, and it wasn't until Charlotte shifted slightly on her feet that Sharp even noticed she was there. His eyes barely softened as he looked at her and she stared right back, trying to match the blazing heat of his anger with the cold shards of her own.

She wanted to say something to him—something biting and nasty in defense of her family, of herself, but nothing offensive enough came to mind. So, instead, she narrowed her eyes even further before breaking the stare and looking towards Harry. "The transmission and hoist line are ready to go."

All Harry did was turn on his heel and head back towards the cargo bay, Charlotte and Chick not saying a word to either Sharp or Watts as they followed him.

She felt Sharp's eyes on her but she didn't acknowledge it, choosing rather to walk with her head held high and her fists clenched at her sides.

* * *

Back in Houston, the dispositions were faring no better.

Unbeknownst to Sharp and Stamper, their little spat had been seen and heard by all of Mission Control and their faith in the crew had taken a complete nose dive as a result. There was a darker cloud of hysteria hanging over the room at large that hadn't been there before and Flight Director Clark tiredly rubbed his eyes, feeling rather than seeing Truman appear at his side.

After a second, he took a small step closer to his friend and whispered, "We're not lookin' too good right now."

"Yeah, no shit."

"You're gonna have to talk with Kimsy soon, you know that, right?"

"I know I do but right this second we have to focus on getting that radio working. If we can't talk to them then nothing else is gonna matter. We have an entire shuttle of powder-kegs up there, we have to get them focused."

"What do you need from me?"

"Check in with Malloy and find out what's going on with that Russian satellite he talked about earlier, then find Grace Stamper and get her in here. In the event that all this goes to shit more than it already has, we may need her."

"And what are you gonna do?"

He let out a breath and ran a hand down his face. "I'll go talk to Kimsy, try to hold off secondary protocol."

"You think he'll go for that?"

"I think once the President finds out what's been going on up there, we all won't have much of a choice."

When the President's direct line rang in the boardroom only a moment or so later, the General wasted no time in picking up the receiver and all the Executive Director could do was wait with bated breath.

"Yes? Kimsy here. Yes, Mr. President." Truman leaned forward and pressed his hands into the surface table. "Yes, we saw that, too, sir. But maybe we should wait until they—" He stopped talking, as if he'd been interrupted, and the two men made eye contact. It was only a second later that Kimsy hung up and Truman knew what was coming before the man even opened his mouth. In a quiet voice, the General said, "Dan, get them out of there. Evac, right now."

"What's goin' on here?"

"I've been ordered to override the system."

The secured elevators that traveled between the main lobby of the Space Center and Mission Control all suddenly opened at once and soldiers appeared, some carrying briefcases while others carried automatic weapons. Truman pointed at them through the glass, his annoyance getting the better of him. "What is _this_?"

As the soldiers weaved their way through the computer consoles of the Control Center, Kimsy said, "Secondary protocol."

"But they haven't drilled the damn hole yet!"

From where he was standing, he saw Clark enter the room with Grace at his side and her eyes widened as she watched the guards walk by.

"The President's advisors feel that the drilling isn't working. And we've lost radio contact, maybe for good. We've only got a few minutes left of _guaranteed ability_ to remote detonate that nuke. If we don't do it now, we could lose control and we might never get it back."

The General's words sank in quickly and it only took Truman a couple of seconds to realize exactly what was happening and what _could_ happen as a result of the actions the President was taking.

Secondary protocol was something that was a product of the most ridiculous conjecture; if they had no other choice, was detonating the nuke on the surface a viable option? A last resort?

Truman and Quincy had been against if from the start. It was _not_ suitable as a last resort, it wasn't suitable as _any_ kind of resort. It was something that had been put on paper because the Oval Office had demanded it; he'd never thought for one single second that it would _actually_ be put into effect.

During his tenure as Executive Director at the Space Agency, he'd never once been put into a position where he was at genuine odds with his government. Sure, there'd been issues over the years when it came to the budget and hiring practices…normal things for employers and employees to squabble over. But nothing serious. Nothing life and death.

But now it _was_ life and death, for the _entire planet_ , and he felt his anger building up dangerously just under his skin.

"Well, you tell the President that he better fire his so-called advisors. If you detonate that nuke on the surface, we waste a perfectly good bomb. And we have _one chance_ to save this planet!"

He was walking out of the boardroom and back onto the control floor before he was even fully aware of it and every eye of every tech was on him. The room had fallen completely silent for the first time but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention as he blew by the guard setting up a portable computer and reached for the nearest red phone—a dedicated, direct, and secure line to the President's desk.

It rang only twice before someone answered. _"White House."_

He recognised the female voice immediately. "Audrey, it's Dan Truman. I need to speak to him right now."

" _Mr. Truman, I'm sorry, the President has advised he doesn't want to speak to anyone but General Kimsy—"_

"I don't care what he said, this is an emergency. Put me through to him now." There was silence on the line and Truman's eyes were drawn to the guard and his computer. He was running out of time. "NOW, Audrey!"

His yell echoed loudly throughout the room and he could see the General glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.

There were two distinctive clicks on the line and then the President answered, sounding none-too-pleased. " _Dan."_

"Mr. President, please—"

" _I'm told that if I don't act now, if we don't blow that bomb within the next few minutes, we might_ never _be able to. That is a chance that I'm not willing to take. Not with the lives of billions."_

"Yes, Mr. President, I understand that completely, but my point is very, very simple. And I think you need to trust me on this because I know something about it. I guarantee you, if you do this, you kill us all."

There as a loud snapping noise as the guard broke apart the plastic cover on the code card. He unfolded it and handed it to Kimsy.

There was a very short pause before the President said. _"Put Kimsy on."_

"Yes, sir." Truman held the receiver out. "General, he wants you."

The expression on Kimsy's face said it all as he took the phone, hesitating slightly before putting it to his ear. "This is Kimsy. Yes, sir."

If a pin had dropped in that room at that moment, every single person would've been able to hear it. All eyes were on the General, including Grace Stamper's, who was watching from an upper level.

As he waited, Truman couldn't help but watch _her_. The sympathy he felt for her was overwhelming. She'd been pulled off the street with her sister and the rest of her father's crew and all she'd gotten in return so far was the loss of her fiancé.

He decided right then and there that he wasn't going to allow her to lose anything else, _anyone_ else. Her father and sister would be coming home.

"Yes, sir. I understand." Kimsy put the phone back on the receiver, and in a strong voice that sounded like he knew the gravity of his words, said, "The orders are to remote detonate in thirty seconds."

And then Grace was charging at him from out of nowhere, her eyes on fire and her hair wild as a guard moved to stand in front of her. Truman could see that the large man was struggling to restrain her. "You have not told them yet! That's my _father_ up there!"

She was hysterically screaming and the sound twisted Truman's insides. The anger that had been bubbling just below the surface for the entire morning finally erupted as he spun around to face the General, his voice at equal volume with Grace's.

"This is one order you shouldn't follow and you fucking know it!" Despite how angry he was, when he put his hands on Grace a second later—his fingers wrapping themselves around her upper arms—he was gentle. He glared at the guard holding her. "Let her go. Let her go!"

The two of them fled from the room and didn't see one of the guards hand Kimsy an ominous looking key, nor did they see the look on the General's face as he accepted it.

"God be with them."

* * *

Charlotte couldn't help but furrow her brow when something in the cargo bay started beeping.

 _Beeping_.

Beeping was never good.

"Harry—" Chick's quiet but panicked voice reached her ears and she turned herself around to look at him. His eyes were set on the warhead and she made the connection before the words were even out of his mouth. "The clock on that nine-foot nuclear weapon is ticking."

Charlotte's eyes widened as Harry yelled, "Sharp! Get back here now!

The Colonel came barrelling down the nearest ladder, calling out over his shoulder. "Watts! Get the shuttle ready to evac now!"

"It just came on all by itself—"

"Secondary protocol."

"What's that?"

Sharp grabbed hold of the titanium casing around the warhead and started to pull it towards the ramp; Chick, Harry, and Charlotte all followed suit and did their best to help him. "Secondary protocol."

Charlotte swallowed hard, trying to calm the terror building up in the back of her throat. "What does that mean?"

"They're detonating this thing from Earth."

"What do you mean, _detonating_? We haven't even drilled the hole yet!"

Chick moved away from the warhead and raised his hands up, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"Get your helmets on now!"

"How…how do you turn if off?"

"Sharp, I got _two_ _men_ out on that rock!"

"I got a man out there, too. We gotta evac now!"

Harry pressed against his earpiece and spoke quickly. "Max, Rockhound, get back to the shuttle, double-time!"

There was no response from Max and Rockhound and Charlotte watched as Sharp crossed the cargo bay, pushing a button that would seal off the bay from the rest of the shuttle—preparation for lowering the ramp. "Watts, air lock the cockpit now!"

" _I copy you."_

"Hey, wait a minute!" Chick raised his voice for the first time, his hysteria increasing with every passing second. "How do you turn this thing off?"

Charlotte, for her part, could barely move as she stood there beside the ticking bomb. Sharp started back towards them and she cleared her throat, her voice quieter than everyone else's when she spoke. "Will, we have to turn it off—"

Harry spoke over her. "I'm not leavin' without my men, Sharp."

"We _can't_ turn it off, Scofield. We've got two and a half minutes to drop it and get off this rock." His hands were moving quickly as he worked on releasing the clips on the straps. "If they're not back by the time we finish, we leave without them."

"Ok, let's simplify this. Let's just turn the bomb off right now."

Harry was yelling. "If we don't put this bomb down in a hole eight-hundred feet onto a fault line, all you're gonna have is a real expensive fireworks show."

Chick's voice was shaking as he said, "This is turning into a surrealistic nightmare."

* * *

Back in Houston, Truman was rebelling.

Most of his team, those that were in favour of drilling, had been forcefully removed from their terminals and were taking refuge in a nearby boardroom. They were watching the chaos on the floor through glass windows and walls, their faces and eyes set.

Truman took a seat up on the table with Grace seated in the chair beside him. Once he had an earpiece in his ear, he spoke quietly into the microphone. "Watsler, are you listening? It's Truman."

To show that he had heard, the man who Truman had admonished earlier for his caffeine intake stood from his terminal and made eye contact across the room. He gave a short nod.

"Ok, listen to me carefully. I want you to kill it. Kill the up-link."

Watsler gave an eager nod and immediately went to work, sitting down in his chair and putting his fingers to the keyboard. Another member of the team brought a blue binder to his desk and discreetly opened it to the appropriate page, setting it down in front of him.

* * *

"Give us the time, Sharp. Shut this bomb down now!"

Sharp shook his head. "It's not my call."

"Then whose call is it?"

"An order to detonate can only come from the President."

"The President's not here! You've gotta give us more time! I'm telling you to shut this bomb down _now_!"

"And I'm telling you it's _not_ my call!"

"Well, guess what—" Harry turned to a nearby work bench and grabbed an enormous wrench. "I just made the call for you." He raised it high above his head and Charlotte and Chick both screamed at him, "Harry!"

It was the silver muzzle of the gun that Sharp all of a sudden pulled from behind him that made everyone still, Charlotte's eyes widening at the sight of it.

And in a quiet but threatening voice, Sharp said, "Don't. You could set it off."

"Oh, man. What are you doin' with a gun in space?"

Charlotte swallowed hard at Chick's words and took a slow step forward, a hand raised in what she hoped was a calming manner. The Colonel never looked at her but she knew that was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "Will, put the gun down."

"Charlotte, don't—"

She waved a hand at Harry signalling for him to be quiet and looked back towards the Colonel. "Will, please." His eyes darted to her for the shortest second before looking back to Harry, the gun completely steady in his hands. It was obvious he'd held one before. "Put the gun down and let's talk—"

"We don't have _time_ to talk."

"Then let's _make_ time."

What she was suggesting with her words was obvious— _shut the damn thing off_ —but Sharp said nothing, his eyes trained on Harry.

* * *

Watsler typed frantically on the keyboard, entering code after code.

Truman watched every movement of the guards through the glass, keenly aware of how much time had passed. ""Come on, come on. We gotta stop that bomb right now. Kill the up-link."

* * *

Gruber entered the bay through one of the side doors and Charlotte didn't even acknowledge him, only having eyes for the Colonel with the handgun. She took a deep breath. "Will—"

"This thing is gonna blow. We gotta get it off this ship."

In her peripheral she saw Gruber slowly start to inch towards Chick, as if to make a move, and Chick shook his head. "Easy."

"Stand down, Sergeant."

Gruber held himself still at the order from Sharp and everyone once again focused. Harry, who hadn't moved an inch since the gun had been pulled on him, still held the wrench above his head. "Shut this bomb down and let us finish our job the right way."

"I'm under orders to protect a surface detonation."

"I'm gonna give you three seconds to shut this bomb down, then I'm gonna _make_ you shoot me."

* * *

"Hurry, Watsler. For Christ's sake, hurry."

The tech entered another command into his terminal and waited with shaking hands for only a couple of seconds before the glaring bright red letters flashed across his screen.

 _Signal status: Disconnected._

* * *

The sound of the detonator powering down filled the space and Charlotte glanced quickly at the timer, realising that it had stalled. But the relief she felt was short-lived.

Harry suddenly swung the wrench and knocked the gun from Sharp's hand, who fell to his knees with a loud yell. There wasn't even time to process her father's assault before Chick committed one of his own, firing out with a fist and punching Gruber squarely in the jaw, causing the younger man to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

When Harry closed the wrench around Sharp's neck and he started struggling to breath, Charlotte moved to intervene.

She looked at him and saw the man that had helped her out of a fighter jet, smoothing her hair back as he looked at her injured lip…the man who had taken her to meet his family…the man that had placed a soft kiss on her forehead and held her against him in an effort to try and help her to sleep the night before they left for Kennedy.

And at that moment, he had an industrial wrench clamped around his neck…her father's hands on the grips.

Chick knew what she was thinking and grabbed hold of her, his arms strong around her as she resisted. "You simmer down, Charlie." He said, his voice soothing in her ear. "Just simmer down now."

Harry glanced at her panicked face before looking back to Sharp, his voice angry. "Bring me all the way up here just to blow me, my friends, and my daughter up? Is that it?"

Sharp was gasping. "Listen—"

"Shut up!" Gruber slowly got back to his feet but Harry wasn't paying attention. "Shut up, Colonel. I'm talking now."

Chick, however, _had_ noticed the young Sergeant stand up, and while somehow managing to keep one hand on Charlotte, he bent to pick up the discarded handgun. His eyes connected with Gruber's in silent warning.

"It could start again. It might've been a warning."

A small distraction in the form of Rockhound and Max as they emerged from the elevator interrupted things for only a second before she looked back to Harry, who was tightening the grip of the wrench on Sharp's throat. "That's why you're gonna dismantle this bomb."

"Alright—" Rockhound blinked, a mix of apprehension and confusion on his face. "What'd we miss?"

* * *

Kimsy turned and sent him a truly hateful glare and the Director could tell that the order had been given to try again.

He bravely waited for Kimsy to look away first before turning towards Malloy, speaking in a whisper. "Keep tryin'."

The small group of rebels in the boardroom watched as Watsler was approached by the same guard that had restrained Grace. That guard instructed the tech to leave his terminal and Truman knew that the much smaller Watsler had no choice but to stand from his chair. He let out a breath, "They're reactivating the bomb."

* * *

The detonator started beeping again and Charlotte felt her entire body tense up.

"Here we go again."

Harry, who was somehow managing to ignore it, looked down at Sharp and spoke in a low voice. "What're you doin' up here? And why did you even bother to make the trip?"

"To do the right thing, to see that it's done."

There must've been something in either Sharp's words or in his eyes because Harry slowly released the wrench, the Colonel breathing heavily as his hands flew up to his throat.

He knelt down at Sharp's side. "For God sake, think about what you're doin'. Why are you listening to someone that's a hundred-thousand miles away? _We're_ _here_. Nobody down there can help us. So if we don't get this job done, then everybody's gone."

Chick spoke up suddenly. "One minute."

Charlotte's gaze never left Harry and Sharp, her eyes darting from one to the other.

"I've been drillin' holes in the earth for _thirty_ _years._ And I have never, _never_ missed a depth that I have aimed for. And by god, I am not gonna miss this one. I will make eight-hundred feet."

Harry's rare display of emotion in front of a man that he hardly knew, hardly _respected_ , was startling and Charlotte felt tears welling up in her eyes. Chick placed a hand on her lower back. "Forty-two seconds."

Sharp suddenly looked at her over his right shoulder and when their eyes met the wave of emotion that passed between them was enough to make her breath catch.

There was a very desperate and sad apology in his blue eyes—an apology for harsh words and even harsher actions—and she could see it clearly, just as if he'd said the words out loud. He'd insulted her and her family, yelled and screamed, pulled a gun on her father...and she forgave him.

Charlotte sent him a small and watery smile, slowly nodding her head.

Sharp pulled his eyes away from her and Harry continued, his voice reduced to a whisper. "But I can't do it alone, Colonel. I need your help."

"You swear on your daughters' lives, on _my_ family's, that you can hit that mark?"

The tone in his voice showed just how torn up he was.

He was an officer in the Air Force whose whole career, whose whole _existence_ , revolved around following the orders of those above him. The President was the pinnacle of that and it must've been physically painful to override his training—that was so very much part of him—and follow the lead of an oil driller instead.

But her adopted father was an easy man to follow. He always had been. Hell, his own team had followed him into space with no real promise of success or even _survival._ The President may have been the leader of the free world, but the loyalty afforded to him was out of obligation; the loyalty of Harry's crew was voluntary.

With his eyes set and his face grim, he vowed, "I will make eight-hundred feet. I swear to god, I will."

"Then let's turn this bomb off."

Harry helped Sharp to his feet, their hands grasping in a moment of comradery.

There was just over thirty seconds left when Sharp and Gruber each moved to stand on either side of the warhead, using small hand-held drills to remove the outer panel of the detonator.

The panel dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. "Steady. Take it back."

"Rainbow track is under what?"

"Under one—"

"All of them. All of them!"

Gruber's hands were shaking and he appeared to be trying to steel himself. "Ok. Are we free of static?"

Rockhound plunked down onto a nearby crate and was muttering to himself as Sharp said, "Steady, steady. Go, go, go!"

A bundle of multi-coloured wires came into view and Gruber took hold of them, trying to sort through them without completely separating them. "Red wire 'A'. Ready?"

"And _now_." Sharp placed a clamp over the wire, the rate of the beeping increasing as the time ticked down. "Come on, come on!"

"Track flipped. Hot's in."

"It better be. Go."

Gruber paused, his eyes shooting up to his Colonel's. "Red or blue?"

 _Six seconds._

The beeping was now an alarm and Charlotte felt her eyes close, holding her breath as she waited.

"Blue."

There was the tell-tale sound of wire-cutters snapping a wire and the detonator powered down again. When she finally opened her eyes and saw that there was a mere two seconds left on the clock, she felt light-headed, swaying slightly on her feet.

Harry was standing only a couple of feet away and sprang into action, grabbing hold of her and pulling her against his chest. "Breathe deep, kid," he whispered gently, placing a hand on the back of her head. "It's ok, we're ok."

She felt herself shaking, her body reacting to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Rockhound spoke up from his seat on the crate, the relief evident in his voice. "Good job."

She couldn't even find it within herself to laugh when Max, who was standing by the elevator, said. "Oh, god, it sucks up here." She instead settled herself into her father's arms and worked on steadying her own breathing, her heart still pounding in her chest.

The cargo bay was quiet as they all came down from their adrenaline high and she ignored the footfalls across the floor until she felt a hand on the small of her back. Pulling away from Harry, she turned to look over her shoulder and her eyes fell on Sharp; his face red and sweaty, his eyes wide, and she knew what he wanted immediately.

She didn't even hesitate in throwing herself against his chest and winding her arms tightly around his neck. He seemed almost relieved at her enthusiasm and he returned the embrace quickly, his arms around her waist. His entire body was shaking, practically humming with energy, and she couldn't help but smile through the tears when he buried his face into her shoulder. "Thank you, Will." She whispered to him, gripping the material of his suit tightly in her fingers. "Thank you _so_ much."

He said nothing.

He just buried his face even further into her shoulder, breathing deeply.

* * *

"Sir? The clock has stopped at three seconds."

"What?" Kimsy was frowning while Truman let out a long breath. "Have we lost complete radio contact?"

Malloy turned quickly, his face lighting up. "I've got some magic happening. We're bouncing off Russian and French satellites. It may have a signal—"

" _Houston? Houston, do you copy?"_

* * *

Standing just inside the doorway of the communications room, with Sharp on her left and Chick on her right, Charlotte watched as her father paced back and forth like a caged animal.

He held the radio phone against his ear and his voice was as strong as always—loud and confident.

She felt Sharp discreetly take hold of her hand and intertwine their fingers.

" _Go ahead, Freedom."_

"Houston, you have a problem. See, I promised my little girl that we'd be comin' home." Charlotte couldn't help but smile at his words, somehow knowing that Grace was listening. "Now, I don't know _what_ you people are doin' down there. But we got a hole to dig up here."

* * *

Mission Control erupted in jubilant cheers at Stamper's words and Truman pumped his fist, looking around at all of his team members.

"Go, go, go, go! Come on, we got work to do."

They all scattered and for the first time since Harry Stamper had crossed the doorstep at the Space Center, there was absolutely no doubt in Truman's mind that they'd found the right man for the job.

For the first time, he truly believed that they were going to succeed…simply because Harry wouldn't let them fail.

 **END**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

There was a new and strong sense of comradery amongst them when they finally shook off the events in the cargo bay and got back to work.

For the first time since they'd met, they were all completely on the same page; there was no bravado, no competition…just a group of people that were putting their petty differences aside and finally working together.

Even with everything that had happened, it was a good feeling.

"Ok, guys. All go, no quit. How you doin' down there? Good?"

Charlotte couldn't help but smile at Rockhound's antics as she struggled to tighten the final bolt on the freshly installed transmission. "Try it now, Maxie!"

There was the sound of the machinery powering up just before the transmission started to turn, smoothly and without trouble. Chick clapped his hands. "Ok, we got the tranny. We're back in business!"

"Hey, you guys should take a break and come up and see this. We got a great view of the Earth from here."

She glanced up to where Rockhound was standing on a nearby outcropping, his gaze presumably locked on the Earth, which was clearly visible through a gap between the rocks.

Charlotte _knew_ how beautiful it was, she'd seen it when they'd first landed, but she couldn't bear to look at it again; the very sight of it—incandescent and perfect—made her far too uneasy. She had enough anxiety as it was.

"Too bad we'll never set foot on her again."

And it was that anxiety and those thoughtless words coupled together that made her call out to him. "Hey Rock?" He turned to look at her and she sent him a truly livid glare. "Think you could shut up?"

Harry, Chick, and Max all laughed and Rockhound simply stared at her for a second before shrugging his shoulders, looking back towards Earth. "Just sayin', Charlie-baby, it's possible."

No one paid attention to him as he walked slowly back down towards the rest of them, his steps oddly energetic for someone who was talking about death only a couple of seconds beforehand.

For her part, Charlotte was in her own little bubble as she worked, looking down at the cleanly rotating drill arm and singing quietly to herself.

She'd always had a soundtrack for whenever she was working on the rig, an old mix tape that she'd carried around with her in a beat-up walkman that Noonan had had to repair for her _at least_ a dozen times over the years.

ACDC. Led Zeppelin. Bad Company. Redbone. And her absolute favourite: The Tragically Hip.

It was her own version of _Awesome Mix Vol. 1_ and even though she didn't have the tape with her there, she could hear each song clearly in her head as if she had her headphones in and the volume at full blast.

She didn't notice Max grinning inside the Armadillo as he listened to her and when he spoke into his microphone it was with amusement in his voice. "What are you listenin' to tonight, Charlie?"

She sent him a small smile, playing along. "Thought all this called for something from the top shelf. _New Orleans Is Sinking._ "

"Can't go wrong with The Hip!" Chick huffed a laugh and patted her shoulder affectionately. "Good choice, kid."

"At least it ain't _disco_. Remember when she went through that Donna Summers phase last year? _Hot Stuff_ , played over and over again—"

"Hey!" She looked up at Max pointedly. "That's a good song, don't knock it."

"At least I know she grew up with good taste…" Harry's words trailed off somewhat lamely and it was so out of character for him that Charlotte looked over at him. She saw right away that he was staring across the valley at the Colonel, who was silently working away on the satellite hook-up for their radio. "Well," he sighed, making a face. "Good taste in _music_ , anyway."

There were barks of laughter as Charlotte fired out and smacked him in the arm, giving him a dirty look.

None of them even noticed the corner of Sharp's mouth lift in a gentle smile.

After a moment or two of giggles, which she knew they all needed, the tone shifted back to one of seriousness. Harry picked up a small section of pipe and looked up towards the Armadillo as Sharp moved to stand next to him. "Give me a depth reading, Max."

"We're at a hundred and fifty feet, Harry."

"Yee-ha! Ride 'em, cowboy!"

The manic shout rang out from out of nowhere and Charlotte and Harry looked at each other, the expression of disgust and confusion on his face nearly enough to make her laugh. But when she followed the noise, her gaze falling on Rockhound as he straddled the disabled but still-very-capable-of-mass-destruction bomb, the humour left her in a flash and she couldn't stop her eyes from widening in shock.

"Yippee-kai-yo, kai-ye!"

The icy glare on Sharp's face was truly a sight to behold and she decided right then and there that if Rockhound wasn't affected by it, he was even further around the bend than she thought he was. " _Get off…_ the nuclear…warhead."

"I was doin' that guy from that movie, you know, Slim Pickens, where he rides it all the way in, the nuclear warhead."

Sharp didn't even blink. " _Now._ "

"Oh, you didn't see that one, huh?"

"We got seven-hundred feet of hole to dig, Rockhound."

"Alright, just…wanted to feel the power between my legs, brother." He turned suddenly and gestured towards Charlotte. "Charlie knows what I'm talkin' about—right, Charlie?"

And then the crazy bastard winked at her.

The hidden meaning in his words made Charlotte's eyes widen even further as Rockhound, finally on his feet, directed his attention to the still-glaring Colonel. "Hey Sharp?" And short pause, and then, "No nukes! No nukes! No nukes!"

The chanting echoed loudly in their earpieces and Sharp looked at her before turning his eyes, somewhat disbelieving, to Harry.

Harry didn't even bother trying to explain or make excuses, settling instead for a simple question.

"You got any more bullets in that gun, Sharp?"

* * *

There was a hiss of air as the elevator door slid open and Charlotte stepped out quickly, pulling off her helmet as she went. She'd been in desperate need of an ibuprofen and a drink of water for going on an hour and Chick had been kind of enough to take over control of the tranny so she could slip away.

She knew that the first aid kit in the command deck's storage cabinet would have something she could take and she made her way to it quickly, setting her helmet down on the nearest chair.

The second her hand made contact with the handle of the cabinet, Watts came barrelling in, her eyes focused on her clipboard. "Sharp, I've been trying to re-wire electrical and I need your help to—" She fell silent when she realized who she was speaking to and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Scofield. I was expecting the Colonel."

Charlotte had no problem admitting to herself that she still hadn't completely warmed up to the other woman, finding her strict manner just a _tad_ off-putting. On some level she could understand why she was like that. They weren't there to make friends or win popularity contests; they were there to do a job, a very _important_ job. And if Watts kept herself focused by keeping her back straight and her voice authoritative, than who was Charlotte to argue with it?

But then, when she thought about it, _Sharp_ was like that, too.

That fact alone made it forgivable.

She tried to smile. "Yeah, sorry. He's outside."

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between them and Charlotte turned back towards the cabinet, pulling the door open. The shelves were packed tightly with various supplies and she had to squint in the strange blue glow of the cabin to find the bottle she was looking for.

Ibuprofen _._

 _Come to mama._

"Headache?"

She jumped slightly at the sound of Watts' voice, the contents of the pill bottle rattling—she hadn't been expecting the co-pilot to still be there. With a nervous laugh, she glanced at the other woman over her shoulder. "Yeah, I uh…I think it's stress."

"Lack of sleep and proper meals probably isn't helping, either."

"Haven't had much time."

Speaking of time, Charlotte wasted none of it as she cracked open the pill bottle and tipped two of the capsules into her palm.

They'd each been given a personalized and reusable NASA water bottle for the trip and for the life of her she had no idea where hers had ended up in the chaos of the landing. Turning around to start the search she very nearly jumped again when Watts appeared beside her, a water bottle with the name _Scofield_ emblazoned on it in her hand.

She held it out and Charlotte sent the woman another awkward smile. "Thanks."

"How are things going out there?"

"Better now." She popped a pill into her mouth and took a quick drink of water. "We got the transmission switched out, we're getting there."

"And everyone's getting along?" Charlotte couldn't help feeling surprised at the teasing lilt of Watts' voice and that surprise must've been visible on her face because the co-pilot smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Things were… _tense_ in here earlier, just wanted to be sure."

"I think we've all reached an understanding."

Watts took that for what it was and nodded, leaning casually in the doorway. "Look, Scofield…" She hesitated for a moment and Charlotte watched her, waiting patiently for the other woman to find her words. "You and the Colonel—" A tidal wave of embarrassment washed over her and she opened her mouth to speak but Watts held up a hand, silencing her in a second. "Don't be embarrassed, I just…I'm sure you realize that it isn't normal, what's happening between you and him."

"Normal?"

"I don't mean that the way it sounds. I just mean that the Colonel is a very private man, a very _serious_ man, and you seem to be the _opposite_ of those things—" Charlotte quirked an eyebrow as if to say _'what's that supposed to mean?'_ and Watts let out a nervous and uncharacteristic laugh. "All I'm saying is, I've known him for a long time and I've never seen him act this way."

As Charlotte stood there watching this woman move uncomfortably from foot to foot, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever had a _girlfriend_ before; someone to drink wine with, watch cheesy romantic movies with, gossip about men with. Charlotte may have been a tomboy both in childhood and now into adulthood, but she knew how to talk to other women. She'd been gossiping with Grace about boys and the like for years and she felt bad for this grown woman in front of her that seemed, for _some_ reason, to find such conversations awkward.

Now granted, they weren't friends…but they both had lady-parts, and in any other circumstance, that would be enough.

"Watts—" She felt stupid having a conversation like that in their current situation and under their current circumstances, but she obliged, gladly taking the opportunity to tune out of the drama for a moment. "I didn't plan this and I _know_ that he didn't. It's just one of those things: _relationships based on intense experiences_ , and all that junk."

Watts smiled, nodding her head. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?"

"I was visiting family in Las Vegas and I got stuck in a hotel elevator with my dog." She held out her left hand where there was a visible tan line on her ring finger. "Guess there's something about a fireman rescuing a golden retriever from an elevator that gets a girl all tingly."

Charlotte couldn't help it, she laughed.

Their conversation was strange, slightly awkward, and completely inappropriate given what they were there doing, but Charlotte couldn't find it within herself to care.

It was nice to just sit and _talk_ to someone about regular everyday things for once—marriages, men, golden retrievers—and not think about the catastrophe that was unfolding just outside.

It was the first time that Watts had shown another side of herself.

A friendly side.

And Charlotte was thankful for it.

* * *

There was a very distinct rumbling in the air when she left the shuttle and she tried her best to ignore it as she knelt down in the dirt beside Chick, doing what she could to help him and Sharp with the hoist line that was lowering a new pipe into the hole.

Harry was standing above them, watching the tension in the line closely. "Rockhound, keep on that transmission."

"Tranny looks good, Harry."

"Alright, take it outta there." Harry pointed to the spot where the two sections of pipe connected. "Lock it down, Chick…and Charlie, watch your damn fingers."

She looked up at him. "Relax, Harry, I've done this a thousand times."

"Yeah, right. Let's see if you tell me to relax when you lose a finger at the knuckle."

She made eye contact with Chick and rolled her eyes.

The deafening sound of machine gun fire suddenly exploded from somewhere nearby and Charlotte looked around wildly as bullets rained down on her in a shower of sparks, kicking up dirt and rock as they shot into the ground.

Harry placed a hand on her helmet and forced her head down, yelling, "What the hell is that?"

"It's Rockhound!"

Harry left her side almost immediately, taking off towards the Armadillo at a run.

Rockhound was standing on the roof, yelling and laughing like a crazy man as he held what looked like some sort of _virtual reality_ type thing in his hands; a device that was somehow controlling the enormous gun that was mounted on the roof of the Armadillo. She had her eyes on him for less than a second before another round of bullets peppered the area where she was sitting and she had no choice but to throw herself to the ground. Chick and Sharp followed suit, the former of which angled his body so that he fell on top of her, shielding her from flying pieces of metal and debris.

All she could hear was Rockhound's laughter mixed in with the loud gunfire, her body pressed down into the hard ground.

And then as quickly as it had all started, there was silence.

Silence except for the ear-piercing voice of her father, who'd football-tackled Rockhound from the roof of the Armadillo all the way down to the ground below. "What the hell's the matter with you, Rockhound?!"

Chick's weight disappeared from her back and she let out a breath, looking up into the eyes of Sharp who appeared to be just as breathless and riled up as she was. He extended a hand out to her and she didn't hesitate in taking it, allowing him to help her to her feet.

She pretended not to notice the causal once-over he gave her as she stood up, looking her up and down as if to check and make sure that there were no new holes in anything vital. Once he was satisfied that she was unharmed he locked eyes with Gruber who had moved to stand with them in the aftermath.

Will shook his head, speaking in a quiet voice. "This is insane."

The spectacle that was taking place next to the massive tires of the Armadillo as Harry wrestled with an openly sobbing Rockhound was truly one of the most depressing things she'd ever seen.

 _A lot_ could be said about Rockhound.

He was crude, self-righteous, and sometimes downright lecherous. But on the flip side of that he was also intelligent, thoughtful, honest, and protective of those he cared about most. They all knew that something was wrong and it had been for a while. He hadn't been _right_ since they'd diffused the bomb.

"He's got space dementia."

"Space dementia? That's a thing?"

"Oh yeah." Gruber nodded at her, his face serious. "Yeah, it's a thing."

"Harry, you want to watch your man." Harry sent Sharp an exhausted nod to show he'd heard and then the Colonel made eye contact with Gruber again over his shoulder. "You know what to do."

"The duct tape?"

"The duct tape."

"Wait, wait, wait," Charlotte very nearly laughed. " _Duct_ _tape_? What are you gonna do with that?"

Will explained, "Standard NASA procedure and guideline for emergencies and dealing with astronauts in crisis—duct tape that astronaut to a chair and administer tranquilizers."

" _Tranquilizers_?"

"I think we have a couple tabs of valium in the kit."

A burst of flame suddenly exploded from around the drill arm and it was so bright she had to shield her eyes.

 _Gas pocket._

Harry was also staring at it and when he spoke his voice was calm despite the panic that was evident on his face. "Max…downshift slowly and put it in reverse. We gotta get that pipe outta there—"

That flames erupted again with more force and at the same time the ground started violently shaking, causing Charlotte, Chick, and Sharp to all sway on their feet. The rumbling that she'd heard earlier was back and louder than before and was Max trying to speak over it, "What's happening!?"

And then there was panic, Sharp yelling loudly enough to hurt her ears. "The ground's cracking!"

"Earthquake!"

Enormous cracks were appearing around their entire drill site as the surface of the asteroid split right open, the pressure fighting to escape. Steam and smoke was billowing out all around them and it was hard to see, made even worse by the layers of dirt and condensation covering her visor.

No longer able to stay upright she tumbled to the ground and tried her best to keep her eyes on Harry, who had fallen a short distance away from her. The ground was coming apart under his feet and his left leg fell into a widening crevice, but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to where his limbs were.

He was frantically waving an arm at Max, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Shut it off! Shut it off now!"

"We're gonna have a blowout!"

"We hit a gas pocket!"

Max was flipping switches and pressing buttons inside the Armadillo as he fought against the fiercely shaking drill arm. "We got pressure out the ass!" The pressure was in fact so strong that the Armadillo was briefly lifted off its wheels before slamming back down to the surface, Max stumbling around inside as he tried to stay in control of the machine.

Harry, who'd finally managed to get back on his feet, was still waving his arms. "Max, get your helmet on! She's gonna blow!"

Charlotte steeled herself and slowly struggled to stand up, trying her best to keep her balance as she started towards the Armadillo where Harry was nearly hysterical with panic. The ground was so unstable that her body felt a thousand times heavier than it was, as if her feet and legs were weighed down with cinder blocks. Each step required an effort that practically stole her breath away.

They had to get Max out, they had break the glass of the cabin or climb up to the hatch and _pull_ him out. Something. _Anything_.

She could climb up there, she _knew_ she could. She just had to get herself over there.

"Max, get outta there!"

Even through the material of her suit she could feel the hellacious heat coming from the flames and as Max screamed out her father's name, a primal scream full of fear and agony, another brutal explosion sent the Armadillo careening into the air.

The atmosphere itself was on fire and Charlotte had no choice but to drop back down to the ground again, not wanting to watch but unable to stop herself as the Armadillo broke apart in a tremendous blast that sent pieces of metal and rock shooting out in every direction.

There was a white hot pain in her arm and her suit's internal alarm started going off but Charlotte ignored it, burying her helmet into the dirt as she started to cry.

 _Five._

 _They'd lost five._

Oscar. Bear. Noonan. AJ. And now Max.

The big man who loved bear claws, spy novels, and his mother…if the new tattoo on his arm was anything to go by.

And that only made her cry harder, their terrifying reality far too much for her heart to handle.

They'd failed. That was it, mission was over. Or _game_ over, as Truman had once said. The drill site had been destroyed, the rig and the Armadillo were gone, their spirits were broken…and to top it all off, they didn't even know if their shuttle could get them home. Not that that mattered though because even if they _got_ home, the world would end mere hours after they landed.

Rockhound had been right all along: they were never going to set foot on Earth again.

"Get a hold of Truman. Prepare the world for bad news."

She could hear Sharp talking, his voice somehow sounding both heartbroken and commanding at the same time. "Whose alarm is going off?"

"What alarm?"

"A suit alarm, low oxygen."

And then there were hands on her, pulling her quickly to her feet. She knew that people were talking to her but their voices sounded strange, muffled and incomprehensible, as if they were submerged in water.

She wanted to tell whoever it was that she was alright and that she could walk on her own but she was far too drowsy to say anything. Her head felt like it was full of cotton balls and with every second that went by she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, to let her tired and heart-wrenchingly lonely body rest.

She'd had enough.

She'd had enough of losing people she loved.

Nothingness, _oblivion_ , would be easier.

She was barely conscious when she was swept up into a strong set of arms, the rhythmic beeping helping to lull her into a dreamless sleep as the world around her slowly and steadily went black.

 **END**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Armageddon or the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. I was out of town seeing one of my favourite bands perform and just got back yesterday.

I'm taking a small liberty with time in this chapter; there were a couple things I wanted to get done before getting back to the action. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 _We're getting sketchy information that the mission has suffered massive failure. And what we're trying to do right now is to confirm that and find out exactly what that means._

 _Repeat. We're getting leaks from several NASA officials, some rushing home to be with their families, that the drilling was unsuccessful._

 _This could very well be our final hour._

 _We're gonna go off the air now. Good luck…and God bless._

Mission Control was alive with noise as the international news reports started coming in, anchors from around the world speaking in panicked tones as they described the events in France. One of their most populated and beloved cities had been left in ruins as the largest of four meteors had hit right in the heart of one of the busiest tourist destinations in the world. _Paris._ Countless neighbourhoods had been completely obliterated. A hub of human ingenuity and culture and practically nothing was left...just a huge crater surrounded by burning buildings.

Casualty reports were already staggering and all Truman could do was stand there and watch.

 _Reports are coming in._

 _Martial Law has been implemented in forty-two countries._

 _Once the asteroid hits zero barrier, it will take about three hours and fifty-seven minutes to impact Earth._

"Truman?"

Letting out a breath and tearing his eyes away from the destruction, Truman turned and saw Kimsy standing only a few feet away. He raised his eyebrows to indicate he was listening.

"We need to talk. Could you come to the boardroom, please?"

And the Director nodded, motioning for both Clark and Grace to follow him as he slowly crossed the control room floor. The rest of the analysts had their eyes trained on the countless imagines of structure fires, riots, and looting that were flashing across the screens and Truman tuned it out, thankful for the relative silence once the door to the boardroom was closed.

Knowing what it was the General was looking for, he said, "I guess we do it the President's way. I'll order an evac. You can remote detonate."

"You still don't think this'll work, do you?"

"What I think is irrelevant."

Kimsy nodded. "We need to do it now."

Truman muttered a quiet and very unhappy _,_ "Fine," before turning back towards the door.

Grace's arm was suddenly in front of him, her hand slamming down on a nearby table and effectively blocking his route out of the room. She got right in his face. "Can they still take off?"

"We hope so."

He made to go around her but she grabbed hold of him, her fingernails gripping the back of his shirt with a ferocity that surprised him.

And with a strength that was equally astonishing, bred completely from frustration and heartbreak, she whipped him around and threw him down to the ground. Pain flashed across his back and all of a sudden she was leaning over him, her face only inches from his own.

" _You_ are the one that pulled them into this! That is my family up there, so I don't wanna hear _we hope so_!"

Over Grace's shoulder Truman watched as Clark jumped up, ready to grab her from behind. He barely shook his head in Clark's direction, but it was enough to get the other man to wait.

He couldn't help but feel like he was looking into the eyes of a wild animal that was stuck in a trap; her hands were shaking as she gripped the front of his shirt, her eyes were wide and furious, her face was tear-streaked and red. In that moment, she hated him…and he couldn't blame her.

Over the course of those two weeks, and even more so now that the mission was underway, he'd tried to push away the heavy feeling of responsibility that weighed down his shoulders. He'd instructed the FBI to hunt down a crew of oblivious civilians and essentially _kidnap_ them, pull them off the street and throw them right into the fire. He hadn't given them much of a choice and he knew it.

Men and women that worked for years towards the ultimate goal of space travel would've buckled under the pressure of the preparation for that mission. It was very disheartening to know that even with all the trained people they had available to them, they'd still needed to involve civilians.

And now five of those civilians, as well as four trained astronauts, had been killed.

"Grace, I'm sorry."

He whispered the words so only she could hear and swallowed hard, keeping his eyes firmly connected with hers.

"I'm sorry that we needed your family, that we couldn't get this done without them. And I'm sorry for all that you've lost. I know that it's my fault." Her death-grip on his shirt loosened only slightly. "I promised after AJ that I wouldn't let you lose anyone else and you—"

She suddenly let go of him and very slowly got back to her feet, waving off Clark's hand when he offered to help her.

Kimsy was staring at her with wide eyes and when she quietly said, "Just bring my dad and sister home," Truman knew he had no other choice but to deliver.

He owed her that much.

* * *

Charlotte rediscovered her body in pieces.

Her limbs had obviously been numb because the feeling was coming back slowly, pins and needles prickling uncomfortably under her skin. There were odd shapes and flashes of light moving around behind her eyes and despite the fact that her brain was addled she was very aware of a burning pain in her right upper arm.

When she sluggishly opened her eyes, the bright lights of Freedom's small med-bay made her squint and she let out a breath. There was a plastic oxygen mask cutting uncomfortably into the sides of her face, she was lying flat on a cold metal table, and the urge she felt to just _move_ was overwhelming.

She tried to sit up and a hand suddenly appeared on her collarbone, gently holding her down.

"Stay still and relax."

 _Chick._

The sound of his voice made her feel better and when he grabbed hold of her hand a second later, she wasted no time in squeezing his fingers.

He lowered himself onto a metal stool beside the table and leaned close. "You feelin' ok?" She lifted her sore arm with the intention of removing the oxygen mask but he caught her hand, shaking his head. "No, no, you leave that on."

"What happened?"

"Piece of metal embedded itself in your arm and tore a hole in your suit, you passed out before we could get you inside. You scared the hell outta every single one us, I don't mind tellin' you—you've been out of it for about an hour or so." He shook his head again, his voice quiet. "Scary thing when your medic is the one that needs the help."

She smiled through the mask. "Looks like you all managed pretty well."

"It was your Colonel that saved the day, got you in here and all stitched up." Chick nodded towards her arm. "Prettiest set of stitches I've ever seen, now that I'm thinkin' about it. Guess that makes sense, seein' as how he's a pretty boy."

She couldn't help but smile at his words, as was his intention.

Charlotte turned her head to look at her right arm, her eyes falling on the ripped sleeve of her shirt and the bloody gauze pad that was covering a relatively large area of skin just above her elbow.

She couldn't help but sigh, "Just what I need, another scar."

"Hey, it could've been worse. We've been short on blessings up until now and I'd say you bein' ok is one big one, so let's count 'em up."

The memories came screaming back to her as if she'd been hit with a battering ram and she let out an unsteady breath, a sting building up behind her eyes.

The flames…the sound of Max screaming…the Armadillo breaking apart.

She couldn't help the small whimper that escaped her lips and even though it was muffled by the mask Chick heard it and reacted immediately.

He leaned even closer and placed a gentle hand on the right side of her face, turning her head so that she was facing him. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and said, "We've got more blessings than you know about, Charlie. You feelin' well enough to sit up?"

She took a few deep breaths and nodded, ignoring the aches and pains as Chick stretched an arm across the back of her shoulders and used his own strength to help lift her into a sitting position.

Her body was weak and her arm throbbed painfully, but when her eyes fell on the man standing in the doorway of the med-bay, she couldn't feel any of it.

 _AJ._

Walking, moving, smiling.

 _Alive._

Her eyes quickly darted over to Chick, who was watching the whole thing with a grin on his face. He must've recognized the question in her eyes because he nodded, silently reassuring her that what she was seeing was _real_ and not some hallucination brought on by oxygen deprivation.

Tears welled up in AJ's eyes as they looked at each other and when he started towards her she didn't even hesitate in pulling off the oxygen mask and tossing it to the floor, throwing her arms around him the second he was close enough. He felt solid under her hands, familiar, her fingers gripping the material of his suit so strongly they were starting to ache.

It was as if a missing part of her heart had suddenly been returned to her and their situation seemed just a little bit more bearable. She felt a weight disappear from her shoulders and for the first time since she'd been pulled off the street by FBI agents, she found it within herself to thank God.

She started openly crying only a couple of seconds later, burying her face into his shoulder, and he tightened his embrace.

He whispered to her in a voice that was also thick with tears. "I missed you too, Chuck."

And that only made her cry harder.

* * *

Sharp was sitting quietly in his chair on the command deck, his eyes somewhat unfocused as he stared through the front windshield.

He could hear the muttering and happy tears coming from the med-bay as Charlotte and Frost had their reunion and he let out a breath, his entire body exhausted and sore.

Harry, Rockhound, and the surviving men from the Independence were outside getting the new Armadillo ready for drilling and Sharp knew it was only a matter of time until their little operation got started again. They had two-hundred and fifty-seven feet left to drill and he hoped they could get it done, their horrific bad luck having knocked their schedule completely on its ass.

 _Their schedule._

Christ, as if they were even _working_ on a schedule at that point.

Top all that off with Charlotte's little accident and subsequent blackout and his nerves were totally shot.

He was supposed to rely on his training and his experience to get him through those kinds of situations, but for the first time in his extensive career, that didn't really seem to be working for him. He'd somehow managed to keep his composure in front of Harry and his crew but he couldn't lie to _himself_ —he'd seen how badly his hands were shaking when he'd been stitching up Charlotte's arm.

Maybe it had been the gunfire and the explosion.

Or maybe it was seeing Charlotte on the ground.

 _Or_ maybe it had been her blood all over his hands as he'd ripped open the sleeve of her shirt.

Whatever it was, it was weighing heavily on him and he'd needed just a few quiet minutes to himself to gather his thoughts. So he'd retreated to the darkness of the command deck and sat himself down in his chair, hoping against hope that the positivity that had returned with the men from Independence somehow lasted them until they were well on their way home.

 _Home._

Never before had he been so desperate to set his eyes on the causeway and palm trees of Kennedy.

"You alright, sir?"

Watts' voice startled him and he glanced at her over his shoulder, sending her a quick nod after a second or two. "I'm fine. Just needed some time to think."

"Scofield feeling any better?"

"She seems to be. I checked on her before Frost went in; no signs of fever or infection, at least not yet. Hopefully those antibiotics do what they're supposed to."

"Gruber patched up her suit for whenever she's ready." She let out a quiet sigh as she lowered herself into the co-pilot's chair, a thoughtful smile on her face. "Of course, whether or not Stamper lets her back outside remains to be seen."

He couldn't count how many times he'd had Jennifer Watts as his co-pilot since she'd first joined NASA's flight program. Probably a hundred times. Maybe even a _thousand_. She was a strong pilot and a quick thinker, someone with a sharp wit that matched his own…someone that could keep up with him when the heat was on.

He, as well as the other commanders, had been given the opportunity to have 'their pick of the litter' when it came to the new recruits, and Watts had caught Sharp's attention immediately, much like Charlotte had when she'd first arrived. She'd been the lone woman in a large group of men and he knew from his own days at the academy that the razzing and teasing she'd most likely endured at their hands probably hadn't been insignificant. She would've had to earn her place amongst them...she would've had to earn their respect and their support. No easy task, he knew.

There was nothing worse than a group of young, testosterone-crazed pilots. He knew because he used to be one...back before he'd found maturity and experience, that is.

With training and seat time, she'd become a force to be reckoned with at NASA and he couldn't help but be proud of her.

She spoke up suddenly, bringing him back to reality. "How long have we known each other, Colonel?"

The trip down memory lane had cheered him up slightly and there was a smile on his face. "Long enough for you to call me by my first name every now and then."

"That's insubordination and you know it."

"Watts, take a look around you; we're drilling a hole into an asteroid. Who here gives a shit about insubordination?"

The two of them shared a quiet laugh and she shook her head, leaning back comfortably in her seat. "How long have we known each other… _Will_?"

"Five years, come September."

"And in all that time, you know, you've never _once_ surprised me?"

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he looked over at her, feigning offense. "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"I just mean that you're predictable, reliable. After so long, I like to think that I know exactly what to expect from you—"

"But you never expected me to get involved with an oil driller?" He looked over at her again and watched as she sheepishly shrugged her shoulders. Yeah, that was exactly what she meant. He let out a long breath and absentmindedly flipped a switch on the console, initiating a systems diagnostic check. A gauge lit up brightly which cast a green light across his face. "I'm not going into any details, I don't want to and I'm sure you don't want to hear it, but…I didn't expect it, either."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they sat there, Sharp's words sinking in for both of them.

He _hadn't_ been expecting it, not at all.

And not _just_ because of what she did for a living, hell, a person's occupation didn't make them who they were. Not that being an oil driller was anything to be ashamed of. On the contrary, he admired Charlotte greatly for what she did. It couldn't have been easy, being isolated for weeks at a time on a _floating asylum_ , as she'd once called it.

He just wasn't someone who went around intentionally _looking_ for people to be attracted to or to get into relationships with. Truth be told, he'd been a little gun shy since his divorce, and most of the time he avoided women at all costs. His marriage to Melanie had left him an absolute mess—like he'd been pulled backwards through a pricker patch—and the last thing he wanted was a repeat performance. He didn't think his manhood or his psyche could withstand another adventure in divorce court.

But something had told him from the very beginning that he didn't need to worry about Charlotte Scofield. Her eyes were bright and pure...she didn't put on airs or show off...there was no deception. She was who she was and that's all there was to it. Take it or leave it.

There weren't enough people like that in the world.

Watts broke the silence. "Do you think anything'll come of it? When we get back, I mean."

He shrugged and lowered his voice so only Watts could hear; things had been tense enough over the last little while, he didn't want to add to it by having the wrong person overhear at the wrong time. "Her and I will talk when all this is done. Not really a priority right now."

The console let out a soft beep as the diagnostic finished and Watts reached forward, flipping the switch back. "She seems nice. Gotta tell you, though? You might have a _little_ trouble winning over the dad."

"Any advice?"

"No, sorry, you're on your own."

"Oh, well, _thanks_."

* * *

She found her helmet and her suit draped over a nearby table and took a second to examine it, noticing the emergency patch that had been placed over the bloody hole in the arm. She didn't know who had repaired it but she was grateful just the same; at least she'd be able to help get the job done over their final couple of hours. She'd never be able to live with herself if she was forced to watch it all unfold from inside the shuttle.

AJ had left only a moment or so before to rejoin the others outside and she'd watched him go with a sad smile on her face. The relief she felt at having him back was palpable but the fact that Oscar and Noonan, hell, even Davis and Tucker, _truly_ hadn't made it? It was like living through losing them all over again.

She couldn't deny that she'd been hoping the cheerful cowboy would appear much like AJ had, with a grin on his face, asking her somewhat cheekily if she'd missed him.

It was as if part of her _was_ missing.

Whatever that piece was, Oscar had taken it with him.

The guys had teased her for years about Oscar and she knew for a fact that they'd teased Oscar just as much and for just as long about her. They were so close in age and spent so much time together that everyone had started making truly perverted assumptions only a day or so after Charlie had first set foot on the rig.

But Charlie and Oscar had never taken that path, there'd never been a need to. They enjoyed their friendship _far_ too much.

There were weekends when they were off the rig that Charlotte had made the long drive from Houston to El Paso and stayed with Oscar on his ranch, enjoying the peace, quiet, and fresh air. They'd spent hours sitting in the rickety old rocking chairs on Oscar's front porch—steaming mugs of tea in their hands and content smiles on their faces as they traded stories and gave each other advice on life's assorted problems. He'd taught her to fish and she'd taught him to play poker.

He was an easy person to spend time with. No expectations or preconceived notions about anything or anyone.

He was just _Oscar_ …and when you were with him, you were just _you_. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

He was one of the only people in the world with whom she'd felt completely safe. She'd always known that no matter what happened, his door would always be open. There would always be a fire crackling away merrily in his fireplace and a fresh stock of rocky road ice cream in the freezer for emergencies.

 _God,_ she missed him.

"You feeling better?"

The familiar voice helped to ease her nerves and she turned around slowly, meeting his eyes as he stood in the doorway. "Much better." She forced a smile. "I was told you stitched me up. Thank you."

He started towards her. "I did what I could but I think it might scar."

"Hey, I'm not complaining."

As soon as he was close enough to her, he reached out and gently pulled her to his chest. She settled into his arms easily and without hesitation, fitting just _perfectly_ against him, and when the familiar smell of Ivory soap filled her nose, she couldn't stop her mouth from lifting in a tiny smile. "Please don't do that again."

She knew immediately what he was referring to and nodded silently, letting out a breath when he started running a hand soothingly up and down her back.

"You scared the hell out of me."

"Chick told me." She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him, the electricity in his eyes sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin and was thankful that he didn't seem to notice. "It's just been a rough couple of hours."

His eyes softened. "I know. I'm sorry about Max."

"It's weird, you know?" She pulled away from him and ran a hand through her long hair, ignoring it when her fingers got caught in tangles. She'd forgotten a brush. "We lose Max and then we get AJ and Bear back. It's like some kind of messed up barter system."

"You really believe that?"

"Kinda hard not to, considering all that's happened." She locked eyes with him again as he leaned back casually against the med-bay's examination table. "Seems kinda silly though, I know."

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not silly. When things get bad, we look for rhyme or reason…some kind of explanation. Everyone does it, it's natural."

"It's natural to think that the asteroid is _bartering_ with us?"

"As long as you don't sit next to a rock and try to talk to it…and as long as it doesn't starting talking back? Then I'm fine with it." They shared a small smile. "Really, don't worry about it. I do it, too, sometimes."

"You do?"

"Of course."

And that simple fact made her feel better.

After a moment or two of companionable silence, she reached for the discarded hair elastic that was sitting on a side table and gathered her thick hair in her hands, twisting it up into a messy bun. It was a relief to have the weight of it off her neck and she let out a breath.

She realized suddenly that he was watching her every move with a strange kind of intensity in his eyes and the goosebumps came back with a vengeance. She could feel the heat of embarrassment taking over her whole head and she shyly cleared her throat. "I uh…I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

There was a somewhat husky tone to his voice and she tried her best to ignore it, at least for the time being. After all, there was a time and place for everything. "For disarming that bomb. For trusting that we'd get the job done. For saving our lives… _again_."

The intense expression broke and he shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, Charlotte—"

"Yes, I do."

"No, you _don't_. Your dad said he could do it, I have no choice but to believe him."

" _No choice_?"

"Well, seeing as how I disobeyed a direct order from the President and essentially put your dad in charge of this entire thing? Let's just say that if he _doesn't_ make that depth in time, the end of the world will pretty much be on me." He shrugged, seeming surprisingly calm despite the seriousness of his words. "I'm just along for the ride now."

She lowered her voice slightly. "Are you going to get into trouble?"

"For disarming the bomb?"

"Yeah."

"If we get this done, I really can't see them caring very much. I think the White House will have much bigger and more important things to worry about than me."

"Well, I hope you're right." She held out a hand to him and he didn't hesitate in intertwining their fingers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "And let's hope we have more important things to worry about, too."

Sharp stared at her for a second and then squeezed her hand again. "Let's hope we never have to worry about anything again."

 _Amen._

She heard a voice suddenly come through Sharp's communicator, and even though she couldn't really hear it since she didn't have her own in, she could tell immediately just by the expression on his face that it was Harry.

He listened for a second and then pressed a finger to the earpiece, saying, "Yeah, I copy. Just in medical with Charlotte. We'll be out in a minute." Harry said something else and Sharp's expression hardened slightly in response. "I'm not telling her that, Stamper, you tell her yourself. Hold on." He pulled his earpiece out and grudgingly held it out to her. "Your pain in the ass father wants to talk to you."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and accepted the earpiece, sticking it carefully into her own ear. "Harry?"

" _If you think you're comin' back out here, you got another thing comin'."_

"And if you think I'm _not_ , then _you're_ the one with another thing coming."

He let out a long-suffering sigh, sounding very much like a tired man with two very strong-willed daughters who habitually argued with him. _"Charlie, we're starin' down the barrel of this thing and I can't get it done if I'm worryin' about you. We got just under two hours left, we're runnin' outta time here."_

"Well, if we're running out of time then you need all the help you can get. We'll be out as soon as I can get back into my suit."

There was a heavy silence and Charlotte recognized the tone of it—it was a silence that was full of Harry's concern and well-hidden anxiety. She was very aware of the fact that she'd nearly died, that she _would_ have died if Sharp hadn't found her and gotten her on oxygen. She knew that it had rattled Harry's cage because if it had been the other way around, it would've rattled _hers_. She understood his apprehension and was thankful for it, but as he'd said himself, they had only two hours left. They didn't have time for concern or anxiety, regardless of how well it was hidden.

"Harry, I'll be fine. I can't just sit in here and you know it."

After a second, he sighed again, and she knew she'd won even before he'd said the words to her.

" _Fine. Get out here, then."_ And then his voice softened a bit. " _Let's get this done and go home."_

She nodded even though he couldn't see it and took the earpiece out, letting out a slow and easy breath.

When she turned around she saw Sharp standing a short distance away with her helmet in his hands and a determined expression on his face. "Ready?"

And she nodded, steeling her resolve.

It was time they got themselves home.

 **END**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Armageddon or the characters from the movie. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

"We got two-hundred and fifty feet to go! It's our last transmission, last drill head."

"Punch it through! First gear. We got contact."

Charlotte stepped off the ramp with Sharp following along closely behind her and she tried to ignore the feeling of nervousness that bloomed in her chest. The energy amongst the rest of the crew was at a fever pitch as AJ lowered the Armadillo's drill arm, Chick pulling on one of the levers and kicking the transmission into the next gear.

Charlotte joined Chick at the control console and when he realized she was there, he placed a hand on her shoulder, sending her an affectionate smile. "Welcome back, kid."

She didn't even have a chance to respond.

Bear's voice filled their earpieces and drew their attention when he let out a loud growl, somehow standing from a crouch with large bundles of metal piping balanced somewhat precariously on each shoulder. Despite the obvious strain he was under, he still managed to send her an enormous grin when he spotted her across the way and she returned it almost immediately.

 _Bear and AJ were back._

If _that_ didn't provide a much needed boost, she didn't know what would.

The now familiar whine of the drill as it made contact with the iron ferrite suddenly filled the air and Charlotte took a deep breath, taking her usual spot beside Chick and directing her eyes to the countless gauges on the console.

* * *

Every bit of her attention was focused on the small TV that was sitting on the kitchen table as she stood at the counter, spreading honey-mustard onto a slice of multi-grain bread.

She didn't know what time it was or how long she'd been watching the news but she didn't care. The entire world was just as transfixed as she was, and while her reasons for watching were similar to everyone else's, there was one small thing that set her apart.

Could she still legitimately _call_ Charlotte her daughter? After all, she knew that it took a lot more than just _biology_ for a person to be a real _parent_. Any two people could jump into bed and make a baby, but that was only one part of it.

Time and effort. Being there for birthdays, graduations, and the assorted heartbreaks of adolescence. Meeting boyfriends and pacing nervously at the front door when said boyfriends were late bringing her home. Cooking healthy meals, packing lunches, putting band-aids on skinned knees.

And she knew, without a doubt, that she'd failed miserably at all of those things.

Her and Andrew had worked very hard over their last couple of years to keep their daughter from finding out how truly unhappy they were in their marriage. Somewhere along the way, something in their foundation had cracked; their fights started becoming more frequent and more ferocious, which eventually resulted in Andrew staying on the base instead of coming home. It hadn't taken long after that for Theresa to pack up and disappear, leaving her daughter and everything she'd ever known behind.

She'd known almost immediately that leaving Charlotte in Baltimore had been a mistake, but she'd been too furious and too afraid to turn around. Now, because of that moment of weakness, she'd been reduced to watching her daughter's bravery play out on the news with everyone else, a world full of people who didn't have the privilege of knowing her.

Not that Theresa really _knew_ her, not anymore.

Charlotte had grown into a beautiful and strong young woman who was being counted amongst the fifteen people credited with trying to save the world. It was all a mother could ask for, really. An abundance of riches.

Of course, Harry had never wasted an opportunity to remind her just what a _horrible_ _mother_ she was.

After she'd heard of Andrew's death through a veteran's website, she'd waited a couple of weeks before reaching out to Harry; she'd wanted to know how Charlotte was doing and wanted to thank him for taking her in. In typical Harry Stamper fashion, their very one-sided conversation had been full of bluster, yelling, and some rather impressive cursing…and as much as it had frustrated her at the time, she'd known that everything he'd said was right and well deserved.

He'd told her over and over to never call again but she always did, about every year or so, and Harry always answered the phone.

Now Harry and Charlotte were both in space.

And Theresa was in Ohio making a ham sandwich.

The shrill ringing of the telephone startled her and she hesitated for only a second before reaching across the counter and grabbing the portable from the cradle. "Hello?"

" _Is this Theresa McKenzie?"_

She couldn't help but furrow her brow. "Who's speaking?"

" _My name is Grace Stamper."_

Her breath caught in her chest.

 _Grace Stamper_? Harry's little girl. The blue-eyed and black-haired beauty that she'd only heard about and seen in photographs.

She remembered the day that Andrew had come home and told her the news: Donna Stamper had left, leaving nothing behind but an empty dresser and a hand-written note.

She couldn't understand it at the time. How a mother, a wife, could just pack up her things and leave her family with no explanation.

Harry had been inconsolable for days before the anger had finally set in, putting an incredible strain on his relationship with Grace as he'd tried to come to terms with what had happened. It had been years since she'd last seen the man with her own eyes, but something told her that he'd never _been_ able to come to terms with it. How could he? He was a man that loathed having to rely on other people...until they left him on his own. After that, he was just as susceptible to feelings of loneliness as everyone else.

She remembered feeling angry while gossiping with friends about how the woman obviously had _no_ maternal instincts and then speculating if maybe she'd been having an affair.

Then only a couple of years later, she'd turned around and done the exact same thing. Only difference was? She hadn't left a note.

She swallowed hard, asking the first question that came to mind. "Is…Charlotte all right?"

" _She's fine. I just couldn't stomach the thought of finishing this without asking you if you'd like the opportunity to be a mother again."_

Theresa slowly made her way to the table and sat herself down in the closest chair, her legs feeling somewhat weak underneath her. Talking to Harry had always been an inch away from torture—his lectures and his condescension. Talking to his daughter, though? Well, that was a whole other story.

Charlotte may have _looked_ like her father, but there were two very important things that she shared with her mother—long, honey-colored hair and an inhuman ability to hold a grudge.

In Grace's case? It seemed she had inherited her father's bluntness.

* * *

"How deep are we?"

"Seven-seventy!"

There was a deep rumble in the ground that traveled all the way up into her boots and in the worst kind of déjà vu, flames erupted from around the drill arm, the force of the explosion sending both Charlie and Chick into the air.

The heat was even more blistering than when they'd lost Max and her skin started protesting under the material of her suit as she sat up, after having landed a dozen or so feet away.

Harry had somehow climbed up onto the cab of the Armadillo and was screaming, his eyes visibly darting between AJ and the shaking drill arm. "Methane! Shut it down, AJ! Back it off!"

"I can't pull back now, the bit'll get lodged! We don't have enough time!"

She wouldn't go through it again, she just _couldn't_ do it.

The world and all of them at NASA would just have to find a way to survive with seven hundred and seventy-five feet, fault lines and deflection be damned.

"It's how we lost Max!"

Charlotte forced herself back to her feet, ignoring the shooting pains in her arm. She'd be lucky if she hadn't pulled any of her stitches, but that was the least of her concerns as she looked over towards the Armadillo, her eyes settling on AJ as he rattled around inside. "AJ! You've got to back it down!"

"I know what I'm talkin' about! We can punch through this! We can knock this outta the park!"

"This is our last transmission, AJ!"

"Goddammit, Harry! If you're ever gonna trust me, ever, once in your life, trust me now!"

Chick spoke up suddenly. "Harry! It's gonna blow!"

"Harry, I know what I'm doing! You just gotta trust me!"

There was something about the tone of AJ's voice, the _way_ he was speaking.

For the first time, he wasn't demanding their trust because he thought he _knew_ better than them or was _better_ than them. He was _asking_ them for it because he genuinely wanted it. He wanted them to trust him.

Despite the countless differences between him and Harry, AJ had always had confidence in the machine that her father had built. He'd always pushed the machinery to the very limit because he knew that it could take it, and as much as Harry hated to admit it, he was always surprised at the results. In fact, AJ's shenanigans over the years had even led to a few upgrades…even though Harry had gone out of his way to make sure the younger man never knew it.

But at that moment there was nothing but confidence in AJ's voice—no arrogance or cockiness—just an honest belief in Harry's creation.

And Charlotte could very easily get on board with that.

"Harry!"

He immediately looked over at her, his visor starting to fog up due to his panicked breathing. Their eyes locked and she sent him a small nod, trying to send him just a _little_ _bit_ of the faith that she was feeling.

 _Give him a chance._

Harry seemed to understand because he looked back towards AJ a second later, his eyes full of veiled apprehension when he said, "Make the call."

AJ faltered for a moment, almost in surprise, before reaching up and flipping a switch. "All right, hold on! I'm pushin' through!"

She took off towards Chick, Bear, and Sharp, who were all struggling to get the control lever turned on the transmission. There was smoke and flames exploding in almost every direction and she weaved her way through it, calling out to Chick the second she was close enough for him to hear her. "What do you need?"

"Watch the pressure!"

She moved into place at the console, listening as the three men fought against the force of the spinning transmission. The pressure was off the charts and she said so. "Pressure is at red-line, AJ!"

"We're almost there, Charlie! Pushin' through!"

"What's your depth?"

"Seven seventy-five! Seven-eighty!"

The three of them finally got the lever locked into position and when Chick finally managed to speak, he sounded completely drained. "Drive on down, AJ!"

The pressure was dangerously high and Charlotte couldn't help but wonder _how in the hell_ the transmission hadn't blown already. But when her eyes darted over to their depth gauge she couldn't find it within herself to care anymore. AJ was calling it out every couple of seconds but her eyes were locked on it, watching as it climbed closer and closer to their target.

"Seven ninety-two! Seven ninety-five!"

The excitement and relief that coursed through her veins was almost enough to knock her out. When the digital gauge finally hit eight-hundred feet, accompanied by AJ's frenzied yell—"Eight hundred! Eight-oh-two, Harry!"—she had to steady herself against the console to keep from falling to her knees.

Happy voices exploded all around her as everyone started cheering and waving their arms. Chick even abandoned the transmission and pulled her into joyful hug, which she returned without even really being aware of it. She didn't bother trying to hold in her tears, there was no point.

Something she _was_ aware of, however, was that Sharp had his eyes on her.

There was a truly stunning smile on his face and she couldn't think of another time over those couple of weeks where he'd looked as happy as he did in that moment. Though she'd never consciously admit it, she was always easily smitten by someone's smile; and goddamn, did he have a smile.

They'd done it. Eight-hundred feet.

Wherever Oscar, Noonan, and Max were, they must've put in a good word for them.

Watts' voice abruptly broke through the euphoria. " _I just heard from Houston. We have thirty-eight minutes left."_

She almost wanted to yell at the woman for ruining the moment but she knew that it was necessary. They were working on a truncated timetable and there would be plenty of time to celebrate and hug and make Will smile when they finally got home.

Speaking of, Will was the one that seemed to shake it off first, locking his now serious eyes on Harry. "When will that hole be ready?"

"We need to remove all the pipe and back the Armadillo off. Give us fifteen minutes."

"You've got ten."

* * *

 _We're receiving word from several NASA officials that drilling operations have been successful._

 _Just a few moments ago, Freedom exceeded their target depth of eight-hundred feet and the astronauts are now preparing the nuclear bomb for detonation._

 _There are now thirty-five minutes remaining until zero barrier and we'll update you on the crew's status the moment the information is made available to us...  
_

Julia put her fork down and let out a breath.

Eight-hundred and ten feet. They'd done it.

Even though she'd always had complete faith in her brother, it didn't hurt that NASA was officially letting the world know that the hardest part was over. All they had left to do was to drop the bomb and take off, and then an hour after that, they'd be landing at Kennedy.

And she'd be there on the runway when they did.

But she wouldn't be there with Will's _children_ , like he was probably hoping for. Oh no. She'd be there with his _ex-wife_ , the blonde she-devil, who at that moment was showering and using up all their hot water.

She didn't know who'd officially invited her to stay with them and her complete obliviousness to the fact that she was overstaying her welcome was getting aggravating.

Brian was staring at her across the table with pointedly wide his eyes, as if to say, _just let it go._ But she couldn't. She was an older sister and her mother-bear protectiveness was bubbling far too close to the surface for her to simply _let it go._

The blonde she-devil.

 _Felony Melanie_.

Will had never really approved of the moniker she'd given his ex-wife, but at the same time, had never been able to hold in a smile whenever she said it. As long as it wasn't said in front of the girls, he always let it slide.

The only thing that had stopped Julia from telling the younger woman what she really thought of her was the fact that she was the mother of her nieces, and regardless of how Julia felt about her, she cared about those little girls a million times more.

"Try and eat a little bit more." Brian reached across the table and touched her arm, his voice soft. "I know you're not hungry, but please try."

She sent him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then looked over to their son.

Adam's eyes were glued to the TV and she tried to ignore just how exhausted he looked. "Do you want anything else to eat, kiddo?" He didn't answer, his eyes still fixed on the TV. Julia leaned a little bit closer to him and tried again. "Adam?"

He whipped his head around to look at her, the bags under his eyes even more noticeable now that he was facing her. "Huh?"

"Did you get enough to eat?"

He looked down at the chicken, peas, and mashed potatoes on his plate before sending her a nod and a tight smile. "I'm good, mom. Thanks."

"Are you sure? There's some more salad left, if you want."

Adam turned so that he was sitting properly in his seat, his eyes darting between his mother and father. When he spoke, it was in a near whisper. "Why is she here?" Who he was referring to was obvious and Julia let out a breath, making brief eye contact with her husband. "I mean, what she did to uncle Will? She shouldn't be here."

Brian set his own fork down, also speaking quietly. "What happened between her and your uncle is their business, bud. We're all worried about him. She's here because she's afraid, just like we are."

"She's not family."

"But Faith and Amy _are_."

"Faith and Amy aren't here, dad." Adam picked up his fork and started poking at his mashed potatoes, a truly unhappy look on his face. "It's not fair that _she's_ here and they can't be. If she'd just brought them to the house before uncle Will left, he would've been able to see them."

Brian reached over and ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "I know, Adam. But in fairness, none of us knew what was going on…your uncle couldn't tell us. Maybe if we'd known, huh?"

"We'll make sure that your uncle gets to see Faith and Amy when he gets back, ok? We've got plenty of room at our house, we'll have them stay with us. Spend some time together as a family."

Adam looked at her before letting out a breath, still moving his food around on the plate but not eating it.

Julia couldn't help but smile. It appeared that her protectiveness when it came to Will was hereditary. "Try and eat a little bit more. When his shuttle lands, we wanna be over there and ready, don't we?"

Her and Brian both watched closely as he scooped up a forkful of potatoes and took a bite.

She was so happy to see him eating that the spike of irritation she felt when Melanie emerged with her hair in a towel was a manageable one.

Brian sensed that irritation and did what any sensible man would do when married to a woman with a Texas-sized temper. He spoke first. "There's food here, Mel, if you're hungry." He motioned to the table. "The restaurant here keeps everyone well fed—there's grilled chicken, potatoes, peas…salad's pretty good, too."

Melanie took a seat at the table and looked at the food. "The restaurant just gave you all of this?"

"NASA's taking care of it. It's only family staying here and they're taking good care of us...considering."

"Well, that's _big_ of them."

Julia's irritation spiked again. "What's _that_ mean?"

Melanie looked at her briefly before grabbing a plate and starting to serve herself. She shrugged her shoulders. "They sent Will up there. Keeping ya'll fed is the _least_ they can do."

Oh lovely, the first _ya'll_ of the conversation.

While Will and the rest of their family had been born and bred in Texas and were occasionally guilty of a little southern twang when they spoke, Melanie was full on _southern belle._ She'd grown up on the outskirts of Atlanta and often took the _Scarlett O'Hara_ persona just a tad too far.

Will had found it charming when they'd first met. Julia had found it obnoxious.

She took a slow sip of her water and had to make a conscious effort to keep her voice even. "Will went up there because it's what he thought was right. No one _sent_ him anywhere, it was his choice."

"He told you that?"

"He didn't have to. He's my brother and I know him."

Melanie seemed completely unaware of the biting tone in Julia's voice because she just carried on filling her plate, looking longingly at the grilled chicken. "You got to see him before he left, that's good." She smiled. "I'm just sorry I couldn't have brought the girls—"

"You could've. You _chose_ not to."

Everyone around the table froze at Julia's words and she focused her eyes on her plate, feeling completely unapologetic.

She'd seen the look on Will's face that night at dinner when he'd hung up the phone, having just heard that his daughters were on their way to El Paso instead of on their way to see him. And now that she knew what her brother had been up against, what he'd been preparing for, it made Melanie's actions that much more unbearable.

The logical side of her brain told her that Melanie had been just as in the dark as the rest of them…but the _illogical_ side of her brain, the part that had hated the woman since her brother had brought her home, didn't care.

She'd stopped Will from seeing his daughters before leaving on a mission that could _kill_ him.

Case closed.

Until Will was back and she could see with her own eyes that he was alive, healthy, and happy? She was fine with being a bitch.

Brian cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably and said, "Don't mind her, Mel. Things have been… _tense_ …here the last couple of days."

"I'm sorry that you hate me so much, Julia." Melanie's eyes were fixed on the surface of the table as she spoke, her voice quiet and surprisingly flat. "I'm sorry that I never lived up to your expectations. But your brother wasn't the easiest man in the world to be married to—"

"My brother is a good man, Melanie."

"He is, he's the best. Doesn't change the fact that he was more committed to his work than he was to me. I went to all the launches and the landings. I went to the galas and the dinners and the news conferences." The two women locked eyes and Melanie smiled sadly. "But…there comes a point when a person needs to decide what's more important; their marriage or their happiness. Will made me happy in the beginning, and maybe if we were still together now things would be different. Maybe when he finally made Colonel, he changed. I don't know. But the choice to end our marriage wasn't just my decision, Julia. It was his, too."

"Then why did you make the divorce so hard for him?"

"Because I was angry. When I met him, he was larger than life— _still_ _is,_ in fact—and I _wanted_ to be married to him. But then the job that I'd been so fascinated by ruined it and I was angry." Melanie let out a long breath and looked around the table, her smile fading. After a second, she stood from her chair. "I can see that I've overstayed my welcome here, I'm sorry. I'll get my things—"

Julia held a hand up and shook her head, taking a second to find her words.

This woman had driven her brother to the brink of depression and had used a career he loved and worked hard for as a means of getting sole custody of their two beautiful little girls. But she had an eighteen year old son at the table and she needed to set an example. She _also_ knew that Will wouldn't want her to behave the way she was.

He would be ashamed of her.

Even though there was a very real possibility that her tongue would snap off its roller if she _actually_ invited the woman to stay, she knew it's what her brother would want.

"Melanie, please…stay." She looked up into her ex-sister-in-law's eyes and tried silently to make peace, her chest tight with a strange kind of remorse. Motioning towards the plate of food, she said, "Sit down and eat. Your food is getting cold."

"Julia—"

"Just stay. Please."

And as Melanie slowly sat back down, a cloud of awkwardness hanging over the table, Julia let out another breath and tried to calm her nerves.

She didn't even notice her husband watching her, immense pride passing behind his eyes.

* * *

"Harry! You've gotta give me that hole!"

"I'm gonna need two more minutes. I got a bent pipe jammed in the hole, we gotta cut it out before we can send that bomb down." He looked around, his eyes settling on the young brunette as he climbed out of the Armadillo. "AJ! You good to go down there? Cut that pipe?"

"Put me in a harness and I'll do whatever you want."

Chick, who was standing beside her, snorted a laugh. "Famous last words."

"I wasn't thinkin' _last words_." Bear joined them, draping an enormous arm around Charlotte's shoulders. "My mind went somewhere totally different, man."

It took a moment for his perverted meaning to sink in and when it did she slid out from under his arm, playfully scowling at the two of them. "Time and place, dudes, time and place!" The two of them laughed and she couldn't help but laugh along with them, shaking her head as she moved to help AJ into the harness.

The excitement of finally reaching their target depth had worn off quickly as the clock continued to wind down. Thirty-eight minutes had shrunk down to thirty in what felt like seconds and she couldn't deny that she was starting to get anxious.

The sooner they got the bomb into that hole and got the hell out of there? The better things would be.

She attached the metal clip of AJ's harness to the hoist line and watched as he lowered himself over the hole, Chick gripping the straps in steady fingers. "You good to go?"

"Yeah, I'm all set."

And with Chick and Harry working together, he was slowly lowered headfirst into the hole. Charlotte moved to the edge and cautiously looked over, watching him closely and using her right hand to signal to the others. "Ok, he's good, keep going."

"AJ, come on! Make it fast!"

"I'm goin' as fast as I can!" She watched as he pulled the saw from his belt and got into position, resting the blade against the pipe. "There's a lot of gas pressure!"

As if called into existence by AJ's words, the ground started rumbling again, and she turned to look at Harry over her shoulder. It was obvious that he'd noticed it as well, his brow furrowed as he looked down at Chick. "You feel that?"

Sharp and Gruber were oblivious to the potential danger as they stood over the warhead, completely engrossed in what they were doing to get it ready. Sharp called out, "Harry, you gotta give me that hole. The bomb is almost ready!"

"I'm almost through!" AJ was the one who responded to Sharp's words, the sound of the saw cutting through the pipe audible through their earpieces. "Give me fifteen more seconds!"

And that was when the reason for the rumbling became abundantly clear.

Enormous hunks of rock were literally flying past them, colliding in mid-air and splitting apart with such force that she could feel it resonate in her chest. She was sure she could hear explosions somewhere off in the distance and Chick was looking up, his eyes wide. "Well, this is somethin' new."

"I don't think this thing likes us."

"That's 'cause it knows we're here to kill it."

There was no warning.

Burning meteors all of a sudden started raining down on their drill site, sending shards exploding in every direction as they split apart, the noise nearly deafening.

"Hey, what's goin' on up there!?"

AJ's panicked voice came through their earpieces but no one had time to answer him. A huge ledge of rock was suddenly broken in half by the force of the quake and a section the size of a tractor-trailer came crashing down around them, destroying most of their equipment and scattering the crew in every direction.

Having spent more time _off_ her feet than _on_ them since landing on that damn asteroid, Charlotte was once again thrown to the ground, all the while frantically trying to move herself closer to the edge of the hole. "AJ!"

It brought memories of him being trapped in the fuel pod on the space station screaming back.

"Goddammit, I'm finished! Charlie, get me outta here!"

Chick appeared out of nowhere. "AJ! You all right?"

"A lot of gas pressure in here, man! Get me out!"

Harry was suddenly there as well, his hands resting on her shoulders briefly before reaching around her and grabbing hold of the straps. "Hydrogen pocket!"

And before anyone could do anything, AJ exploded from the hole in a shower of sparks like a cork popping from a champagne bottle.

She knew that AJ was airborne and getting further and further away by the second but she just couldn't stay on her feet, the ground was too unstable. She made a wild grab for the belt but couldn't grasp it, couldn't close her fingers around it before the force of another explosion sent her stumbling again.

"Sharp! Heads up!"

He breath left her as something solid crashed into her back and before she knew it she was on the ground again, a sharp piece of rock digging uncomfortably into her hip. Whatever was on her was heavy enough that she couldn't move, couldn't even roll herself over to her back...but it was also _light_ enough that she had no trouble breathing.

She knew immediately that it wasn't a rock or a piece of equipment because she would've been dead already.

It was something else.

It lasted for only a few more seconds, the rumbling eventually fading back to silence, and the only thing she could hear was the panicked breathing of her crew-mates.

The weight on her back lifted itself off of her and she let out a breath, her ears hurting when Harry yelled out to her. "Charlotte!"

"I'm ok, Harry." She was trying to ignore how dreadfully _sore_ her body was. "I'm all right."

"Sharp, you all right?"

She realized at that moment that _Sharp_ had been the one to tackle her to the ground in the middle of all the chaos and she slowly turned to look at him, their eyes locking. He rested a hand on her shoulder and seemed to relax slightly, only responding to Harry once they'd silently reassured each other that they were both alright. "I'm ok."

"Bear?"

"Yeah. I'm here, Harry."

"AJ?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. We lost Gruber—" The sadness in AJ's voice was contagious and Charlotte felt her eyes close, Sharp tightening his grip on her arm. "Gruber's dead."

With every person that was lost, the weight on Harry's shoulders became more and more obvious. It was affecting all of them, and with only minutes left until they had to be on the shuttle, they all had no choice but to push that sorrow down into their stomachs and fight it out.

They'd come too far and they sure as hell weren't going to tarnish the sacrifices of their friends—their _family_ —by slowing down or giving up.

"Let's get that bomb ready and go home."

Harry rallied the troops one more time and they all came through, slowly and warily getting to their feet.

Charlotte's arm was on fire, her recently injured hip was aching, her legs were spent, and she _knew_ she'd broken a couple ribs. All things considered, it was a miracle she'd managed to stand up at all...and it was clear that everyone else was feeling the same way.

Sharp moved to stand in front of her and didn't say a word as he placed a gloved hand on either side of her helmet, resting his visor gently against hers. She could see that he was just as exhausted as she was, he probably even had a few injuries hidden underneath his suit, but he was fighting through. He was their commander, their pilot, and more so than the rest of them, he had no choice. She took great comfort in the gesture and closed her eyes a second after he did, moving her hands to rest on his arms as she timed her breathing to match his.

And as they stood there, for just a moment, she was able to relax. She was able to disconnect her brain from the pain, the exhaustion, and the gloom. It literally felt like _years_ since she'd been able to do that.

The last sunrise on the rig, back before she'd even _heard_ of DOTTIE or Dan Truman.

 _That_ was the last time she'd truly felt peaceful.

"Hey, guys?"

They mutually pulled apart and two sets of eyes—one green and one blue—looked across the demolished drill site to where the others were standing. Harry was watching them closely but there was no harshness in his voice or in his gaze, just fatigue. "You're gonna need help with that bomb, Colonel."

It was a statement. Not a question.

Sharp hesitated for only a second before he started walking, the rest of them falling into step behind him as they crossed the valley. AJ was the only lone straggler, taking a few quiet minutes with Gruber.

Charlotte hadn't known the Munitions Specialist all that well, in fact she could probably count on one hand the number of times they'd spoken over the course of those two weeks. She'd always found him to be a bit standoffish and had always preferred going to Halsey with any questions. But Gruber was a human being and a member of their crew, someone who had sacrificed just as much as the rest of them to be there, and that alone was more than enough reason to mourn him.

It took them only a couple of minutes to get the warhead into position at the edge of the hole and Sharp was looking intently at the display.

Since he'd clipped the main detonator's wire back in the cargo bay, she knew from their training that he would have to press the buttons on the display in a specific sequence in order to set the trigger. With a little luck, they'd take off and get themselves far enough away before remote detonating, all before crossing zero barrier; which according to the time clock visible from inside the Armadillo, was only nineteen minutes away.

"Oh my god."

There was suddenly a shrill beeping noise emanating from the warhead and the very sound of it set her teeth on edge.

Words she'd once thought to herself came barrelling back to her.

 _Beeping was never good._

Harry addressed it first. "Is there a problem, Colonel?"

"The timer, the remote, the whole thing's dead."

Her eyes widened as she moved to stand next to AJ, who said, "What, the _bomb_ is dead?"

 _Oh no, our luck couldn't possibly be that bad._

"No, the trigger's dead." Sharp's visor was almost completely fogged over and all that could really be seen were his wide eyes, startling blue even from where she was standing. She shifted slightly on her feet, dreading whatever was coming. "It must've gotten damaged during the rock storm."

"So how do we detonate it?"

* * *

"Everyone! Over here, please."

The noise in Mission Control slowly faded to nothing and Truman waved them all over, resting his hands on his hips when he felt that he had control of the room. There were dozens of eyes on him, all eager and ready to help in whatever way they could.

Unfortunately, their readiness wouldn't be enough…not that time.

He let out a long breath.

"We have eighteen minutes to zero barrier. We got some bad news. The remote detonator on the bomb has been damaged." He felt _Grace's_ eyes on him as well, but he carried on, trying not to pay attention. "That means that somebody's gonna have to stay behind."

And he watched as Grace's face went pale.

He was starting to lose faith in his ability to keep promises.

 **END**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** And then I looked up and it'd been almost 3 months.

I'm so sorry for how long it's taken to get this story updated! The last couple of months have been insane: I moved...then a friend accidentally dropped my laptop and it was sent away to be fixed (thankfully I had this story on a flash drive)...then I was in a fender-bender and had to deal with all that. Real life has SUCKED lately! I've been working on this chapter off and on while at work and thankfully managed to get it finished. My apologies ahead of time for any grammar issues; I went over it a couple of times, but as always, some things slip through.

Thanks to everyone that has favourited/followed this story over the last little while. I appreciate it!

* * *

"It takes two people to fly this thing. Either we _all_ stay and die, or you guys draw straws."

Sharp stood in front of them, his voice flat and his eyes focused on an invisible point on the back wall. He was refusing to make eye contact with anyone and she couldn't really blame him; she didn't want to make eye contact with anyone, either.

 _Luck_.

A force that brings either good fortune or adversity, therefore determining whether events or circumstances operate for or against an individual.

She'd never really believed in luck.

Actually, she'd been raised by two very different men who had taught her that if a person tried hard enough, did their absolute best, there was nothing in the world that could take that person's success away from them.

But as she sat there in Freedom's cargo bay with the rest of the crew around her, she realized that luck probably played a more active role in her life than she had ever thought possible.

"I say we all stay and die."

Her eyes shot over to Rockhound and she couldn't help but stare at him, open-mouthed, the lunacy of his words and the weight of Sharp's both sinking in at the same time.

"But that's me."

The poor bastard had been duct-taped to his chair for the better part of an hour and a half and she couldn't help but wish Sharp had thought to duct-tape his mouth shut, too.

After a second of stunned silence, she started shaking her head. "Is this what it's come to? Seriously?" She looked around at all of them, making eye contact with everyone except Sharp, who was all of a sudden staring down at his boots. "We work our asses off…lose the Independence: Oscar, Noonan, and Max…and the _only_ way to finish this is for someone to—" She couldn't even finish the sentence, swallowing hard. "There's _nothing_ we can do? We've _MacGyver'd_ our entire way through this. Can't we jury-rig something?" No one said anything so she looked towards the Colonel, raising her eyebrows. "Sharp?"

His face was surprisingly pale. "The trigger isn't just dead, it's in pieces. There's nothing to jury-rig. The only way to detonate it is manually—plugging in a handheld trigger and pushing the button."

"What about remote detonating from Earth again?"

"I cut the control wire. There's no way for it to receive the signal."

And for the hundredth time since they'd landed, she felt sick to her stomach.

It seemed that fate had been against them from the very beginning and she couldn't help but wonder _why_. Was their collective karma really so horrible that they were all getting their comeuppance at the same time? If so, the fates could go screw themselves.

It was a cycle; they were faced with a problem…they somehow found a solution…and then that solution ended up causing another more serious problem later on.

While she understood that seven billion people were relying on them to get the job done, she couldn't stop the wave of bitterness that washed over her. How much of themselves did they all have to give?

Harry said, "Nobody's gonna draw straws. I'll stay and take care of it."

"Well, I can't live with that sort of thing—"

"Nobody asked you if you could live with it, Chick, all right?"

"Bullshit!" The Russian's loud exclamation made her jump and he popped out of his seat, waving his arms. "No way will I let you volunteer so I can go back to my home country as the man who _didn't_ volunteer. No way!"

"Hey, man, let's draw, and let's see who's gonna stay up here and dance."

"Guys, I…I know you guys think I'm crazy right now, but I would really like this responsibility."

Harry stood from the crate he'd been sitting on, only briefly glancing in Rockhound's direction. "All right. Let's just draw straws and get it over with. Come on."

"I ain't drawin' against you, Harry."

"Well, I'm gonna draw against _you_ Chick, so you better just go ahead and do it. And _you_ , Charlotte Elizabeth…you better sit your ass back _down_." She had started to stand from her seat and couldn't help but blink at him, somewhat surprised by the fury in his voice. He pointed a finger at her. "You're gonna sit back down and you're not gonna say a goddamn word, you hear me?"

The tone of his voice made her scowl against her will and she stood herself up straight, motioning around at the others in the bay. "You really think I'm going to let all these people that I care about draw for this while I sit it out?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what you're gonna do."

Her eyes widened. "You can't ask me to do that—"

"I'm not askin' you, I'm tellin' you."

Chick suddenly raised his hands up and looked between the two of them, a sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead. "Ok, ok, let's just…calm ourselves down, here." He shook his head. "The two of you, I swear, you both got _stubborn_ tattooed on your asses."

Harry raised his eyebrows and spoke a little louder. "Chick, you stay outta this."

"We all helped to raise her, remember?" Chick shrugged a shoulder, speaking in a measured voice; which was in direct contrast with the obvious distress on Harry's face—the apples of his cheeks were red with anger and his eyes were flashing as the two old friends locked eyes, Harry shaking his head as Chick spoke. "Andrew left her to all of us when he passed, you said so yourself."

"This is different!"

"I'm not sayin' it isn't." Chick shot a fleeting look over towards Sharp, but turned his eyes back to Harry before Charlotte could fully interpret the meaning behind it. "But she's all grown up, Harry. She's a good kid, a _smart_ kid. If she wants to do this, who are we…and no offense meant, but who are _you_ …to tell her she can't?"

"Harry?"

The soft sound of her voice seemed to startle him and he looked over at her, as if just remembering that she was there. She swallowed hard, acutely aware that every set of eyes was on her—most were gentle and understanding…Harry's, however, were wide and furious.

"You remember that year in high school when I signed up for the five-thousand meter relay?" She tried to smile at him through watery eyes and he relaxed only slightly, his shoulders drooping. "I trained for months—before school, after school, on weekends—and you were always there, cheering me on from the sidelines. You remember what you kept telling me?"

He was shaking his head. "This isn't _that_ , Charlie—"

"You kept saying _don't quit, don't give up._ You told me to keep pushing."

"This isn't that!"

"No, but the message is the same. _Don't quit_. My father…you… _all_ of you taught me, _raised_ me, never to give up. I've been here with you since the beginning, please don't ask me to back out now."

He was still shaking his head and she took a slow step towards him, reaching out and resting a hand on his forearm. Part of her half-expected his arm to be shaking or unsteady, but in true Harry Stamper fashion, he was completely still.

Harry Stamper. Their immovable center. A place where each and every one of them could stop, rest, and catch their breath.

She gently squeezed his arm. "If we draw, we all draw together. All of us or none of us." When Harry said nothing she looked towards Chick and the others, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Right guys?"

A heavy silence fell over them that was broken only when Sharp cleared his throat and held up what looked like a bundle of multi-colored wires; all cut the same length, Charlie assumed, except for one.

Without even hesitating, Chick stepped forward and reached for a green wire. "Just gimme this thing."

Lev drew next. _Blue_.

Then AJ. _Purple_.

Harry. _Green_.

Bear. _White_.

Taking a deep and slow breath in an effort to calm her nerves, Charlie stepped forward and reached a hand out, grabbing the end of a red wire. Her eyes locked with the Colonel's as she drew it from his grasp, a wave of dread passing between them that she knew was glaringly obvious to everyone standing around them.

She tried to swallow it down as Lev's voice broke through the tense quiet. "So is this good…or…bad?"

They all looked at each other, trying to identify which wire was the shortest; and when her eyes fell on AJ and his short purple wire, she didn't even feel it when her eyes started to well up.

"Oh, man." AJ's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, much like a person would do when trying to keep themselves from throwing up. "Well…we all gotta die, right?" He smiled. "I'm the guy who gets to do it savin' the world. So uh…let's go. We got about ten minutes, right?"

Sharp picked up the manual trigger from a nearby workbench and slowly crossed the floor, holding it out towards AJ. In a strong voice, he demonstrated how to use it. "You plug this into the port. Lift. Press. Hold. That's it."

"Lift. Press. Hold. Shouldn't be too tough." He smiled again. "Even _I_ can't screw this up."

Charlie wasn't even aware of it when she started hyperventilating, the sight of AJ's beaten smile tipping her emotions over the edge that they'd been teetering on for what felt like forever.

And AJ must've noticed because he immediately started towards her, grabbing hold of her upper arms as soon as he was close enough. "Charlie, look at me. You know I gotta do this, right?" His grip on her arms was strong and his face was smooth underneath all the dirt and sweat. He appeared calm and collected in the face of what was coming. He ducked his head down so he could look into her eyes. "Grace. I _need_ you to take care of her."

For one crazy moment, she wanted to tell him not to do it. She wanted to tell him to hell with Earth and every single person on it. To hell with NASA. To hell with Truman. To hell with Sharp and Watts and everyone else that had played a part in dragging her family into such a big and heart-sickening mess.

 _To hell with all of them._

Harry gently cleared his throat. "I'll take him down."

The younger man leaned forward and placed a hurried kiss on Charlotte's forehead before moving into the elevator to stand next to Harry, his back ramrod straight and his eyes set.

And seconds later, far too quickly, he was gone.

* * *

 _April, 1989 – Stamper House – Galveston, Texas_

* * *

"I can't believe you're makin' me call an exterminator for _crickets_."

"They're too loud, I can't sleep."

"Guess you and your dad didn't do much camping, huh? Out there, you hear them all the time. It's supposed to be _soothing_ for chrissakes—"

"No, you don't understand—" A seventeen year old Charlotte quickly crossed the kitchen, following behind Harry closely as he dished up their dinner of barbecued steaks, mashed potatoes, and salad. "These aren't those cute, little, Jiminy _wish-upon-a-star_ type crickets. These are big, mean, nasty, bug-eyed, _take-over-the-human-race_ kinda crickets, Harry."

He snorted at her.

"I'm serious! They're huge!"

"Relax, kid, I'll get it taken care of while you're at school on Monday." He nodded towards an empty chair as he set a plate of food down on the table. "Sit your butt down and be quiet. Eat your dinner."

She did as he said, plunking herself down and reaching across the table for the large pitcher of iced tea. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed there was a third place setting and furrowed her brow. "Someone else coming? I thought Grace was in Dallas for the weekend?"

And as if summoned into existence by her words alone, their third dinner companion came crashing through the front door. She instantly knew who it was. Only one person in their world would make that much noise in such a short amount of time.

 _AJ_.

The good-looking twenty-year-old had become a somewhat permanent fixture in their house since his father passed and while Charlotte sometimes had little patience for his obnoxiousness and teasing she couldn't deny that he cheered the place up. His disposition was always sunny and positive, which routinely seemed to be in direct contrast with her tough-as-nails adopted father.

Harry was a hard man, no doubt, who rarely seemed to smile or laugh— _especially_ when it came to AJ—but she knew differently. She knew from experience that her father was a giant mush-monster on the inside who was capable of being astonishingly affectionate when the situation called for it. The simple fact that she was living there with him and Grace was evidence enough of his kindness. He'd taken her in and given her a place to call home. If that wasn't a sign of a warm heart, she didn't know what was.

AJ just had an overwhelming talent for getting under people's skin.

As he entered the kitchen, he looked at the steaks with enthusiasm. Harry was shaking his head. "If you're gonna invade my house and eat my food, the _least_ you could do? Is show up at the time I tell you to show up at."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Time kinda got away from me." AJ sat himself down and sent Charlotte a cheerful smile. "How's it goin', kid? You keepin' those grades up?"

"Doing my best."

"Our little keener." She scowled at him and he laughed, plopping an enormous spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "That's not a bad thing, Charlie. The more people on the rig with school smarts, the better we'll be-"

Harry suddenly and very loudly cleared his throat, sending a pointed glare to the younger man across the table. It killed AJ's glee in less than a second Charlie watched as he started to squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

She shifted her eyes from AJ to her adopted father and said, "I don't know what you're clearing your throat for, he's right."

"Charlie, please don't start-"

"Don't start what? I graduate high school, go to college, graduate, and work on your crew. That's always been the plan."

"No, that's always been _your_ plan."

She made a face at him and he let out a long-suffering sigh, as if that was a conversation, a disagreement, that they'd had a thousand and one times...which they had.

If Charlie was completely honest, Harry's stubbornness on the issue was starting to get on her nerves. Every time the topic came up, she felt like she was talking to a brick wall wearing her father's face; a brick wall that she'd been banging her head against for months.

She didn't understand why he was so against her joining his crew. After all, she knew all the guys well...hell, they were her family. The very idea of her being stuck in Galveston while her family was half-way around the world 'hunting mud', as Rockhound called it, was extremely unappealing. She wasn't overly fond of being on her own for extended periods of time, she preferred to travel and be close to the people she cared about.

And in her little world, that meant working for Harry.

Whether he liked it or not.

 _Stubborn old man._

The three of them finished their meal under a cloud of awkward silence and when Charlotte stepped out onto their back porch shortly after sunset, she couldn't help but let out a long breath.

Even though she'd only lived in that house for a little over a year, she'd grown to love it.

Harry owned a large spot of land on the outer rim of Galveston Island with a direct view of the water and the twinkling city lights of League City and Houston off in the distance. The air was always fresh there, pleasantly cool as the breeze skimmed the surface of the ocean just yards from their back door. It was a peaceful place, a place where she could sit and think or read one of her favourite books in peace, and she'd staked a claim on the old rocking chair on the back porch mere days after she'd moved in.

There were days when she missed Baltimore…the bustling streets, the familiar neighbourhoods, the people…but all she'd have to do is set foot on that back porch and she forgot what it was she was missing.

She knew, even after that short year, that she belonged in Texas. Galveston and Houston. It's where she was meant to be.

"You love him but he's annoying as hell, ain't he?"

She couldn't help but chuckle, watching out of the corner of her eye as AJ walked up beside her, leaning forward and resting his arms on the warm wooden railing. "Just a little bit."

"He's just doin' what he thinks is best for you, that's all."

"I know he is. I just wish that what he thinks is best didn't clash so much with what I wanna do."

He laughed, "You sound like every other teenager out there." He glanced over at her, a smile on his face. "You'll end up on the rig, we all know it. Just let him have his way for now. Things'll work out the way they're supposed to, Charlie, you'll see. "

"You really think so?"

"Sure, I do." A light breeze blew over them and AJ let out a relaxed breath. "Everyone ends up where they're supposed to in the end, kiddo; doesn't matter where we go or what we do, how we live our lives or what path we take…we always end up in the right place."

"That seems both optimistic and ominous at the same time."

"It all depends on how you look at things." He reached over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "So _choose_ to look at things optimistically. "

And she did.

When she finally arrived on the rig only a couple of years later, AJ had immediately pulled her into an affectionate hug and whispered a very quiet _'I told you so'_ into her ear.

* * *

 _Everyone ends up where they're supposed to in the end, kiddo._

The words echoed loudly and painfully in her ears as she stood there in the shuttle's cargo bay, watching the elevator slowly descend down beneath the floor.

Is that where AJ was supposed to end up?

Is that where _any of them_ were supposed to end up?

She couldn't force herself to believe that, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't force herself to believe that anyone anywhere could be destined to end up in such a horrible situation, no matter what karma or comeuppance they had coming their way. There had to be a limit to how cruel the universe was allowed to get.

She felt a set of fingers wrap themselves around her arm.

"Charlie? Come on, now."

 _Bear_.

Her eyes were burning with un-shed tears when she turned to look at him and the second they made eye contact his large shoulders visibly slumped. The pain and distress she was feeling was palpable to her, and based on the look on Bear's face, it was palpable to him as well.

His own eyes were shining as he draped a heavy arm across her shoulders and directed her away from the elevator, tucking her in tightly against his side.

They'd only taken a few short steps when the mechanical whirring of the elevator started up again, causing each and every one of them to turn and wait for Harry to step back out. However, as the elevator doors slid open, it wasn't _Harry_ that was inside.

AJ was huddled in a crying mess on the floor with bloodshot eyes and tears running down his face.

Bear gave her a quick squeeze before joining Chick and Rockhound, the three of them staring down at AJ as he sobbed quietly. His helmet had been discarded on the floor and the air hose from his suit had been pulled from the nozzle.

Chick got his wits back first. "What happened?"

AJ just kept on crying and it took less than a second for Charlotte to comprehend what had happened.

As the others crowded around AJ, grabbing him and pulling him roughly to his feet, black spots appeared suddenly in front of her eyes and her breath caught in her chest.

 _Harry was gone._

 _Harry wasn't coming back._

She was so hysterical, finding it _so_ hard to breathe, that she barely heard Harry's voice come through their earpieces, calm and clear. " _All right, let's go, Sharp. Let's get our team outta here."_

The others hesitated for only a second before they started to move towards the ladders, seeming intent on following Harry's final order.

In a fit of panic and without even thinking about it, Charlotte threw a hand out and yelled loudly. "No one move!"

The cargo bay fell silent as she stood there with her chest heaving and her eyes shining again.

She knew that Sharp was standing just a few feet away from her and out of the corner of her eye she saw him take a small step closer, either to comfort her or grab her, she didn't know or care. She knew that they had mere _minutes_ left before Freedom _had_ to be in the air, but she didn't care. All she could think about, all she _cared_ about, was the fact that her father _hadn't come back._

She pressed a shaking finger to her earpiece and spoke as calmly as she could. "Harry, what are you doing?"

There was a brief silence before he answered and his voice was strained, as if he was unsteady on his feet. " _You gotta get outta here, Charlie. Right now. You're runnin' outta time."_

"I don't give a _shit_ about time. Tell me what you're doing!"

" _You, AJ, and everyone else are goin' home."_ There was a short pause before he said, _"Get yourself ready to go, Charlie, we'll talk soon."_

"What the hell does _that_ mean, _we'll talk soon_? Harry!"

Sharp moved towards her and leaned in close, speaking in a quiet voice so only she could hear. "He's asked to have a private video link with you and Grace before we leave." She looked up and met his eyes, startled green connecting with powerful blue. There was compassion in those eyes and while she was thankful for it, she also felt herself railing against it. "Watts will patch you in."

"I don't want a private video link. I want him _here_ , right now."

"I know you do but what he said is true—we're running out of time, Charlotte. If we're gonna get out of here and _away_ before zero barrier we have to leave within the next few minutes…and we don't even know if this ship can fly—"

"Colonel—" Watts appeared in the doorway, her eyes alive with alarm and annoyance. "I need you on the command deck right now."

He held a hand up in Watts' direction, signaling for her silence; his eyes, however, never left Charlotte's face and his voice remained soft and commanding. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now, I know you're angry, but I need your help."

She swallowed hard. "I can't leave him here, Will."

"And I won't let you stay."

To the others listening, there was an air of finality to his words—the air of a Colonel giving an order to a subordinate. But looking in his eyes, Charlotte knew there was more to it.

He was a mission commander who was responsible for the lives of each and every person on that shuttle, she doubted very much that he would let _any_ of them stay behind. But Sharp seemed to know, just as the rest of them did, that Harry was far too stubborn to take orders from anyone…let alone a Colonel that he'd had trouble respecting in the first place.

Sharp's eyes said it all.

 _If Harry wants to stay, let him._

 _You? Charlotte Scofield? You're going nowhere but home._

There was a very brief silence that was eventually broken, once again, by Watts. " _Colonel_?"

He snapped at her. "I heard you the _first_ time, Watts, thank you. Go back to the deck and start running diagnostics on the thrusters, I'll be right up." As she disappeared obediently back through the doorway, the Colonel looked around at everyone remaining in the bay. "We have _minutes_ to get the hell off this rock. I'm sorry that this has happened but we have no choice, we have _no time_. You all know what you need to do and I'm asking you to do it. Right now, let's go!"

And with that they were moving again, Bear once again pulling her against his side as they all flooded towards the doorways and ladders.

* * *

Watts quickly led her into Freedom's communication room and pointed towards the empty chair in front of a bank of monitors. "The link will start as soon as they patch your sister in. Sit down." As Charlotte sat down, Watts handed her a headset. "You have two minutes."

She turned and watched nervously over her shoulder as Watts flew from the room, the sound of Sharp frantically yelling orders from the command deck clear even from where she was sitting.

Charlotte placed the headset carefully over her ears and focused her eyes on the static-filled screens in front of her, her knee bouncing nervously as she waited for something to happen; waited for her father's face, her sister's face, to appear.

Her stomach was rolling, her heated skin was itching, she was _sure_ her heart was going to explode with how fast it was beating. She could hear it in her ears and feel it in her limbs.

Was she _truly_ going to do it? Was she going to leave her father, the man who had given her the life she loved, alone to die in such a cold and desolate place? Was she going to let his seemingly unearthly stubbornness be his undoing?

On the other hand, was she being selfish? Was she _truly_ willing to sacrifice seven billion people so that she could spend another couple of hours with what was left of her family?

" _Houston, do you copy? This is Harry Stamper."_

The static disappeared from the screen in front of her and was replaced with a split screen—on the left, a grainy image of a wide-eyed Grace…and on the right, a slightly clearer image of her father.

Grace smiled and looked at each of them. _"Daddy! Charlie! Are_ _you ok?_ "

" _Hi, Gracie. Hi, honey."_

Charlotte swallowed hard, fighting to keep her eyes from tearing up. She didn't know what to say so she settled for staying silent, watching and listening as Harry spoke. _"Grace, I know I promised you I was comin' home."_

Grace's face fell slightly. _"I don't understand."_

Harry sighed and Charlotte felt a single tear fall from her eye. She quickly reached up to wipe it away. _"Looks like I'm gonna have to break that promise."_ He smiled a very small, very tired smile. " _Charlie is ok, we're all ok. Her and AJ will be home soon."_

"There's still time, Harry." She cleared her throat. "We can figure something out, there has to be a way—"

He held up a hand at her and she fell silent, noticing Grace's confused expression out of the corner of her eye. _"I've made my mind up, Charlotte, leave it alone. Let me just enjoy these couple minutes, ok? Please?"_

It was the first time in recent memory that he had ever used the word _please_.

There was a short pause and Charlotte could tell that Grace was looking back to Harry, her voice starting to waiver only slightly. " _I…I lied to you, too…when I told you that I didn't wanna be like you. Because I am like you. We both are. And everything good that we have inside us, we have from you."_ Harry had a gentle smile on his face and Charlotte wiped away another tear as Grace said, " _I love you so much, daddy, and I am so proud of you. I'm so scared."_

" _I know it, baby, but there won't be anything to be scared of soon. Gracie…I want you know that AJ saved us. He did. And I want you to tell Chick that I couldn't have done it without him, none of it._ " There was another yell from the command deck and Charlotte jumped slightly, swallowing hard against the anxiety that was building in her chest. Harry looked over at her and smiled again, the love and warmth in his eyes spreading from the top of her head all the way down to her toes. _"And Charlie…I haven't told you once this whole time how proud I am of you."_

She smiled back at him. "You never had to."

" _Yeah, I did. I treated you more like a worker than a daughter. And you never complained, not once."_ He cleared his throat roughly. " _I'm proud of both of you. And I wish I could be there to walk you both down the aisle. I'm no expert, but…Charlie, I think it may happen sooner than you think."_ All three of them were openly crying, Charlotte leaning closer to her monitor while Grace did the same, their eyes firmly on their father as he said, " _But I'll…I'll look in on you both from time to time, ok? I love you."_

They both muttered a quiet 'I love you' back and before either of them could say anything else, Harry said, " _Gotta go now, girls,"_ and abruptly switched off his monitor.

And the last thing that Charlotte heard before her screen went back to static was Grace's tear-filled voice.

" _Daddy, no."_

The anxiety in her chest exploded and Charlotte let out a loud and gut-wrenching sob, leaning forward in her chair and resting her head in her hands.

All she could do was cry, mirroring her sister's final words.

 _Dad, no._

 ** _END_**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone for all of the reviews, I really do appreciate it!

Voldemort: I always put _END_ at the end of every chapter, just an old habit. I will definitely be adding more to this story. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Also, a slight language warning. I dropped an f-bomb.

 **Disclaimer:** Just playing in the sandbox, I don't own Armageddon or the characters. The only thing I own is Charlie.

* * *

Chick could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he darted around the command deck, checking the restraints of the few remaining crew members as they wearily dropped into their seats. They were all exhausted and heart-wrenchingly sad and he was trying very hard to push his own feelings down into his gut where they couldn't make things worse, for him or anyone else.

He reached AJ's chair last and grabbed hold of the younger man's restraints, giving them a good yank to make sure that they were as tight as they could be for what was sure to be a bumpy ride home.

There was a countdown clock over near the Colonel's chair but Chick was forcing himself to ignore it; Harry wasn't coming back, AJ was devastated, and the sound of Charlie sobbing in the communications room was enough to deal with at that moment, he didn't need the added stress of _time._ Let Sharp and Watts deal with it.

"I can't _believe_ it's goin' down like this. You all right?"

AJ didn't say anything. He simply leaned his head back against the chair's headrest and closed his eyes, his silence answer enough.

 _Harry, you stubborn son-of-a-bitch._

From where he was standing, he could just make out Charlie slumped over in front of the bank of video monitors and his heart broke for her; her head was resting in her hands and her shoulders were shaking…her tears were visible to him, even from that far away.

He could probably count on one had the number of times he'd seen Charlotte Scofield cry over the years, the majority of those times taking place around the time that Andrew died. She'd been through a lot over the course of her short life, more than anyone her age ever should, and he wished that he could take that pain away from her and drop it onto his own shoulders instead.

Chick Chapple was used to pain, took it and bore it, maybe not with ease, but with experience.

Harry had made it clear that the crew—the beaten and battered remains of what they once were—belonged to _him_ now, and it was up to him to get them home. Once they had their feet on solid ground again, he'd do whatever he needed to in order to make sure that Harry's two children were taken care of. Harry had been his best friend, his closest family, and taking care of those that were left was not only an honor but his responsibility.

Quickly glancing at their pilots and guessing that he had only a moment or two before the proverbial shit hit the metaphorical fan, he took off across the deck and flew through the communications room doorway, kneeling down beside Charlotte's chair.

She didn't move or acknowledge his presence at her side...she just kept on crying, her face buried in her hands.

"Charlie?"

Part of him didn't think she'd respond or even look up, but after a moment, she slowly raised her head and looked at him. Her hair was a mess, she had tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, and her green eyes, which were always so bright and full of life, were terribly bloodshot.

The very sight of such a strong young woman breaking down right in front of him made his heart sink and Chick raised a gloved hand, smoothing her flyaway hair down and away from her face. "I know you're hurtin', honey. We're all feelin' it—" The shuttle started ominously shuddering beneath their feet and Chick shuffled a little closer to her, speaking quickly. "I wish I could give you more time, but I can't. We gotta go."

Charlotte kept on staring at him for what felt like forever before she bravely wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up, saying nothing as she maneuvered around him. There was a visible slump to her shoulders and the very sight of it triggered a long-dormant fatherly instinct—an instinct that had been in hiding since the day he'd lost his wife and son—and he followed along closely behind her, placing a gentle hand on her back as she slowly sat herself down in her assigned seat.

Chick felt eyes on him as he thoroughly checked Charlie's restraints and the second he was sure she was safely in her seat he turned and sought those eyes out.

Sharp was watching closely from the pilot's chair, his eyes both commanding and concerned. There was a silent question in those eyes and Chick understood immediately what that question was.

 _Is she all right?_

Was she all right? Right at _that_ moment, no, she wasn't all right. But Chick knew from experience that she had _far_ too much of Harry in her to be _not ok_ for too long; she was strong, she was formidable, and she would find a way to forge ahead the way that Harry and everyone else expected and hoped she would.

She wasn't ok, but he knew that eventually she would be.

* * *

"O.M.S pod pre-start. O2 vents locked, pressure loaded."

"Full pressure?"

"As full as it's gonna get."

Sharp flipped a switch on the upper console and his eyes darted back down to the corresponding gauge in front of him. "Try and get a few more pounds in there, Watts, too much is better than not enough."

" _What the hell's goin' on up there? Why haven't you guys left yet?"_

Harry's voice came through his earpiece and Sharp immediately answered, "We're going, Harry. Houston. We got O.M.S pod pre-start. Give me a confirmation, Watts—"

"Pre-start confirmed."

He pushed a button to fire the thrusters and felt relief when Freedom started shaking…

...and then he promptly started panicking when the thrusters audibly choked, the needle on the gauge sinking right back down to zero. "What's the problem?"

Watts shook her head. "I don't know."

"Fix it now!" He couldn't help but yell at her as she sprang from her chair and took off running. "We got no time! No time!"

As the Russian undid his restraints and headed down the ladder after her, Rockhound spoke up from his seat. "Come on. We're stayin', we're goin', we're stayin', we're goin'. Make up your minds!"

" _Sharp, get outta here now! You got less than three minutes!"_

"I know, Harry, we're workin' on it."

Charlotte's quiet voice broke through the commotion. "We'll never get to the minimum safe distance in less than three minutes."

"If we can get this ship moving, I'll _get_ us to minimum distance."

" _We're gettin' tight for ignition, Freedom."_ Sharp recognised the voice of Flight Director Clark. _"You've got two-minutes forty-seven seconds, closing fast—"_

"Houston, we've got _no_ fire."

Rockhound yelled up from the back again. "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means we got a busted ship."

Rockhound laughed and kept on talking but Sharp focused his attention on the gauges for the thrusters, listening as Clark said, " _Freedom, you fire that engine. If there's no way, you find a way. The clock's tickin'. Let's go! Let's fire that engine, Freedom!"_

At what felt like the speed of light, Sharp mentally ran through every bit of training, every bit of knowledge he had on that ship; every single moment he'd spent in the simulator, every single manual he'd read, briefing he'd been to, question he'd asked.

He'd spent _years_ learning about the X-71, the ship that had been destined for missions to the Space Station before DOTTIE had come crashing into their lives, and he knew it well. Or at least he _thought_ he did.

They had a successful O.M.S pod pre-start.

They had full pressure.

Full tanks.

All hatches and doors were sealed.

There were no alerts to signify a hull breach or any other structural problem that would trigger the standard fail-safes.

So what the _fuck_ was the problem?

" _You got less than a minute! Don't think I won't blow this thing!"_ And then there was an audible strain in Harry's voice, as if he'd been knocked off his feet and was struggling to speak. _"Sharp, get outta here. It's gettin' bad down here."_

The Colonel couldn't answer, couldn't even _speak_ with such an enormous lump in his throat.

 _Come on, Watts, come on!  
_

There was a loud and sudden whirring sound as power and fuel flooded into Freedom's thrusters, spiking the needle spiked all the way to the opposite end of the gauge.

"She's got me back, she's got me back." He turned and yelled loudly over his shoulder. "Watts! Let's go, let's go!"

He could _hear_ Watts before he could _see_ her, her heavy boots hitting the floor with every hurried step she took. She threw herself into her seat beside him in a flurry of blonde hair and sweat and strapped herself in, turning to look at him when he said, "Initiate thrusters on my mark! Two, one, mark!"

The sheer force of the shuttle's sudden acceleration was enough to push him and everyone else back into their seats, a wave of relief coursing through him when he felt the ground disappear beneath them. Sharp didn't even hesitate in hitting the throttle the moment their path was clear.

" _Come on. Get some altitude! Let's go, let's go."_

The shaking and rattling intensified around them and he hit the throttle again, hoping that the added speed would help smooth the ship out. He could hear the others yelling and screaming hysterically behind him but he did his best to ignore it, instead focusing on Watts when she yelled, "We're at max thrust!"

The view through the front windshield gradually changed from smoke and rock to a vast and endless expanse of black, and of all the times that Sharp had seen that view from the pilot's seat, that moment _right then_ topped them all.

While he had always had a somewhat otherworldly talent for keeping his shit together, even in the most insane situations, there was a very large part of him that was so overwhelmed that his breath caught in his chest.

Turning in his chair to look out the small window beside him, he swallowed hard and spoke in a nearly silent voice. "Thank you, Harry."

He didn't expect an answer, hell, he didn't even know if the other man had heard him. All he could do at that point was keep pushing Freedom further and further, the constant chattering from Houston coming through his radio.

" _Shuttle's out of range. Still no detonation."  
_

Watts immediately looked over at him. "Do you think something's happened to him?"

"I don't know." Sharp could feel her eyes staring a hole into him and after another few seconds of painful silence, he started shaking his head. " _Something_ ' _s_ not right. Too much time has gone by."

" _Zero barrier's about to breached. One minute."_

"Colonel, what do you want to do?"

The plea in his copilot's voice twisted up his insides and he slowly moved his hand back to the throttle. "We're goin' back and we're gonna do it ourselves."

"Just don't." Chick spoke up suddenly, his voice more serious than Sharp had ever heard it. "Wait _one_ minute."

Sharp's fingers closed around the metal handle of the throttle.

"Colonel! I'm askin' you. Just _one_ _more_ _minute_!"

The green digital clock on the console flashed by thirty seconds and even though Sharp would never admit it out loud, he knew that turning around wouldn't make a difference. There was no way that he'd be able to turn them around, land safely, find Harry, and push the button all within thirty seconds.

It was impossible.

Harry Stamper was their only shot, their only hope...as he had been from the very beginning.

"Harry'll do it. I know it."

It was _those_ words, AJ's faith, that drew Sharp's nervously flexing fingers away from the throttle.

"He doesn't know how to fail."

And then there was a blinding explosion of light.

* * *

She was used to being the only one awake.

Even when she and Will had been young, she'd always kept odd hours; staying up all night long and sleeping all day. She was a night owl and that hadn't changed as she'd gotten older or as she'd started her own family.

Brian was the early-riser, the morning person. _He_ was the one that took the garbage out first thing, brought in the newspaper, and started the coffee. _She_ was the one that turned off all the lights at night, let the dog out for a final pee, and checked to make sure the doors were locked.

They'd spent the entire day waiting for news of what was happening with Freedom and even though their nerves were mostly successful at keeping them up and pacing, Brian and Adam had fallen into restless sleep less than an hour before.

And so Julie sat there, alone, her eyes glued to the muted TV as she quickly read CNN's closed captioning.

 _Thanks, Jim. We're here right now just outside the main gates of the Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida. As you know, NASA and the Air Force have been very quiet over the last couple of hours and we've had no updates—no official updates, anyway—regarding what's been happening with Freedom and the few remaining astronauts on board. The last we heard, about an hour or so ago, was that drilling operations were successful and that the explosives were being prepared. However, since then, activity around the base has suspiciously quieted and the security presence at the gates has nearly tripled..._

The faint sound of what sounded like _yelling_ reached her ears and Julie pulled her eyes away from the TV, looking towards the window.

Bright light was shining in through the cracks in the blinds and she couldn't help but squint, holding a hand up to protect her eyes as she slowly and quietly stood from the couch.

She approached their room's sliding glass doors cautiously, taking a quick look outside before pulling the door open. What looked like hundreds of people were outside, both within the hotel's gates and outside of them, sitting on the hoods of their cars and standing in groups as they looked and pointed skywards. And when Julie followed suit, the reason for the yelling and the intense light became obvious.

There was an absolutely enormous ball of fire in the sky, a thousand times larger than the sun and ten times as bright. Flashes of colour mirrored off nearby clouds, creating what almost looked like a hole in space…a shockwave that took her breath away.

For one terrifying moment she thought it was the asteroid entering the atmosphere and passing zero barrier, but something deep down in her gut—and in the faces of those around her—convinced her that there was no danger and nothing to be afraid of.

"Hey ya'll! Listen to this!"

A woman's voice rang out and was followed immediately by the static of a car radio, the volume loud enough to echo throughout the entire parking lot.

… _has been destroyed. I repeat. We've just received confirmation from NASA officials that the nuclear weapon has been detonated and the asteroid has been destroyed. Freedom is on its way home!_

The whole parking lot instantly erupted into wild cheers. Perfect strangers were hugging and slapping each other on the back, car horns were honking…a young boy, no older than seven or eight, was running around with a toy space shuttle in his hands.

People were _happy_ …for the first time in what felt like forever.

And as she looked up towards the colorful sky, she knew that _somewhere_ up there her brother was busy bringing Freedom back home.

The excitement she felt at the reality of seeing her brother got her moving and she headed straight back into her family's room, and when she shook both her husband and son awake, she did so with a smile on her face and joyful tears in her eyes.

* * *

"Houston, we're comin' home."

" _We copy that, Freedom."_

Watts let out a long breath and relaxed in her seat, rolling her head on the headrest so she could look over at him. "Excuse the insubordination, sir? But that was some _damn_ good flying _._ "

"You too." He sent her a smile. "I don't know about you, but I desperately need a vacation."

"I'd say we've earned one. Somewhere tropical with lots of free booze."

The happiness he felt was broken at the quiet sound of crying behind him and he knew immediately who it was without even turning around.

 _Charlotte._

The _gentleman_ in him wanted to get out of his chair and go to her, attempt to comfort her; but the _Colonel_ in him knew that he had to stay where he was.

Now that the danger was gone, he was able to admit to himself that they'd cut it close. A little _too_ close, actually.

The bomb had detonated mere _seconds_ from zero barrier and because of that they were already on the verge of re-entering Earth's atmosphere. He hoped and prayed that the outer skin of the shuttle was strong enough and in good enough shape to get them through—he hadn't had time to inspect it before taking off.

Out of an abundance of caution, he quickly cast his eyes over all the gauges and instruments on his console; there were no alerts, no flashing lights…Freedom was doing what she was supposed to, in as good a shape as she could be.

 _Thank Christ._

Watts, as she often did, seemed to read his mind. "All the readings and gauges look good. Hull appears to be holding."

"Remind me never to take off again without an exterior inspection."

"Look, uh...before we land and the chaos _really_ starts, I wanted to say thank you." When their eyes met, she lit up like a candle; a bright smile on her face and her eyes sparkling. They were sparkling with _exhaustion_ maybe, but it was still a pretty sight. "Thank you for being my pilot, for asking me to fly with you...for getting us home. It was an honor."

When she stuck her hand out, he didn't hesitate for a single second; he shook it, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. "The honor was _mine_ , Jen. Thank you."

The shuttle quickly broke through the cloud deck and when he looked back to the horizon, he immediately spotted two things—the long snaking runway of Kennedy and the crystal blue waters of the causeway.

 _Home._

"Kennedy, we see you. And you never looked so good."

Bright sunlight beamed in through the front window and Sharp couldn't help but squint, his eyes starting to sting from the sweat that coated his face and dripped from his eyelashes.

He couldn't wait to get his feet on solid ground. Couldn't wait to get out of that disgusting flight suit and have a shower. Couldn't wait to have a hot meal of _non-dehydrated_ food. Couldn't wait to hug his kids and his sister.

To start feeling human again.

Chick spoke up suddenly, bringing him back to reality...as if the shaking and rattling of the shuttle as it descended wasn't _enough_ to do that. "I never told anybody this before, but I hate flyin'. So it'd be an awful shame to die now."

"That's easy for you to say." Rockhound, who was now duct-tape free, sounded surprisingly miserable given their current circumstances. "I owe a hundred grand to a bad-ass loan shark, which I spent on a stripper named Molly Mounds."

"Boy, that's bad."

Sharp very nearly laughed as Watts said, "Kennedy, we are one hundred percent. Flap suspension control on full." She glanced over at him. "Nose up?"

He nodded. "Nose up. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast."

"You're starting to sound like Kimsy."

Sharp smiled again and gently pulled back on the control column, keeping a close eye on their altitude meter. "Twenty feet until wheels down."

"Roger that, now ten feet."

There was a slight jolt as the landing gear made contact with the tarmac and Sharp reached forward, flipping a switch. "Chutes deployed."

He felt the shudder as the enormous canvas chutes exploded from cargo doors at the back of the shuttle and the effect was immediate. Freedom started to gradually slow and he could just make out the response vehicles—fire trucks, ambulances, and air force humvees—speeding towards them with red and blue emergency lights flashing.

He undid his restraints and slowly stood from his chair, ignoring the cracking and popping of his various muscles. "Welcome home, astronauts."

They all stood from their seats slowly, as if their legs were cramping, and he knew from experience that the first blast of fresh air they'd get when they opened the door would do them all a world of good.

As he carefully maneuvered his way around his chair, his eyes fell on Charlotte. She was still in her chair, her eyes closed and her head back against the headrest. She hadn't even removed her restraints.

Fully aware that his sore legs might not be able to stand up again, he knelt down beside her chair. "Are you all right?"

"I don't really know." Her eyes slowly opened and she looked down at him, her sadness sending a piercing pain right through his chest. "I'm trying really hard to be happy."

"You don't have to be happy. You don't have to be anything, no one expects it. You do, however, have to get yourself up…stretch your legs…and face the day." Sharp didn't even hesitate in reaching forward to release the clasp of her restraints for her, looking her right in the eye. "Walk out with me?"

There was a moment where all they did was stare at each other, the other crew members chattering happily around them, obviously excited at the prospect of seeing their families…at the idea of having their feet, once again, on solid ground.

Will was trying very hard to convey to her that deep down he couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through; what she _had_ been going through since the elevator had risen in the cargo bay with AJ in it instead of her father. Not that losing AJ would've been any easier, he knew.

While he'd been busy fighting with the ship's thrusters back on the asteroid, he'd been vaguely aware of the fact that Charlotte had been video-calling with Harry and Grace. He'd been able to hear their voices, their goodbyes, and eventually her sobs, but he'd been far too fixated on what he was doing to pay much attention beyond that.

The next few hours, hell, the next few _days_ were going to be grueling for them; twenty-four hour precautionary decompression and quarantine…medical examinations and blood work…a debriefing with NASA and Air Force officials that would be more like the Spanish Inquisition than anything else…and to top it all off, his absolute favorite, _media availability._ He was hoping that the busy schedule would help to take her mind off things, keep her focused on the positive side of it. Her father and the rest of his crew had saved the world and if that wasn't something to be proud of he didn't know what was.

Grief was natural and she wasn't alone in feeling that way; they were all there with her, with sad souls and heavy hearts.

She must've been able to read his thoughts in his eyes, in his expression, because she eventually nodded at him and threw aside her straps, letting out a tired breath as they both stood up. He was relieved to see that she was steady on her feet and he wasted no time in leaning forward to place a comforting kiss in her hair.

There was the sound of smashing glass as AJ hit the emergency door release and the side door of the shuttle exploded out with a sudden burst of air. Sharp could hear the sirens of the response vehicles, the distant sound of helicopter rotors, and people cheering.

The prospect of seeing his family again made him move anxiously from side to side and he unconsciously gave Charlotte's hand a squeeze. She returned the gesture immediately and when he looked over at her, she sent him a gentle and affectionate smile.

It made that moment a thousand times better.

 _END_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** Hey all! As always, thanks to those that have reviewed/favorited/followed this story. Your support is very much appreciated! I know that this chapter is on the shorter side and I'm sorry about that. It just felt like the perfect place to end this one and I couldn't bring myself to add any more to it. The next chapter is already three-quarters finished and should be posted as soon as I get it done and edited. Hope you like this entry!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Armageddon, just playing in the sandbox. The only thing I own are my OCs.

* * *

Despite his best efforts, he'd lost track of Charlotte somewhere at the bottom of the slide.

The sheer size of the crowd and the noise they were making was overwhelming, and after taking a couple of seconds to look around for the familiar honey-colored hair, he took a deep breath and started walking, trying his best to shake each hand that was haphazardly thrust towards him.

All the times he'd been to space, he'd never before gotten a reception like _that_.

NASA officials, Air Force personnel, and civilians alike were flocking across the tarmac towards the landed shuttle, looking up at it with awe in their eyes, like it was some ethereal being they'd only heard about in stories. While it was usually the responsibility of the Air Force to keep unauthorized people off the runway and away from any landing ships, it was obvious that they were either unable to hold back the masses…or, most likely, hadn't even bothered trying. People were laughing and embracing, some were openly crying. It was a celebration of their success, and knowing well how close they'd come to failure, Sharp couldn't help but smile right along with them.

If it meant that he'd get to see his family, his kids, before being forced into quarantine? Than it was all right with him.

If there was even a _point_ to quarantine. If he or anyone else on the crew was infected with some sort of asteroid or space virus, they'd already passed it on to what felt like half the state of Florida.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted AJ running towards Grace Stamper, everyone around them breaking into cheers and applause the second they were in each others arms. He expected to spot Charlotte somewhere near them and couldn't help but frown when he still couldn't see her, hoping that wherever she was, she was all right.

He could see Chick holding a young blonde-haired boy in his arms as a woman who had tears in her eyes pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. _His ex-wife and son._

Bear was kneeling down on one knee beside a smiling older woman in a wheelchair, who was wearing glasses with lenses so thick that they enlarged her eyes at least ten times. _Mrs. Kerleen, his mother._

Watts was in the arms of her husband— _Eli_ , if he remembered correctly—and their young son, _Michael_ , had his arms wrapped protectively around his mother's lower legs.

And then there was Rockhound…who was lying flat on his back with a rather leggy looking blonde lying on top of him, the two of them locked at the lips. _Molly Mounds_.

Sharp couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

A Princeton educated chemist and geologist, who'd spend the majority of their mission duct-taped to a chair, making out with a stripper right there in the middle of the runway.

Well, there was a first for everything, as the old saying went.

"Will!"

Upon hearing the familiar voice, he turned and tried his best to look through the dense crowd, his eyes lighting up when he spotted the vision in green that was hurtling towards him at full speed.

He couldn't help bit grin as he opened his arms, catching his hysterical sister as she barreled into him.

Her entire body was shaking and he wrapped his arms around her. "Hey Jules."

"You _bastard_. You scared the hell out of me."

It was obvious to him that his sister hadn't slept in days and hadn't been eating _nearly_ enough—she'd lost weight and felt incredibly fragile, _small_ , in his arms. There were bags under her eyes and her dark brown hair was unwashed and messy. He wanted to tell her that it was over, that there was nothing more to be afraid of, but found himself feeling so overcome with emotion that he couldn't find the words. So he settled instead for squeezing her even tighter, relieved when he felt her relax against his chest.

The rest of his little family slowly surrounded them—Brian, Adam, and his aunt and uncle—all of them making the trip from Texas to welcome him and the others home. Will's heart felt lighter than it had in days as he hugged each of them tightly, wiping tears off his aunt's cheeks when she started to cry and then laughing when his burly uncle told her affectionately to get a hold of herself. It was the reunion he'd been waiting for…until he realized that there were two very important people missing.

Faith and Amy.

The question must've been obvious in his eyes because Julia sniffled and started shaking her head, saying, "Melanie was with us at the hotel and…oh, honey, they wanted to come, they did, but—"

"It's ok, it's fine." He forced a smile and reached over towards his nephew, ruffling the kid's shaggy hair affectionately. "I've got my family, it's all I could ask for." He looked over towards Julia and furrowed his brow in somewhat misplaced amusement. "Melanie was at the hotel with you? You mean you actually let her in the door?"

"Don't be cheeky, of course I did. She's the mother of your children, isn't she?" After a second, she added, "Besides, we came to an… _understanding_."

Remembering the rocky history between his ex-wife and sister all too well, part of him found that very hard to believe.

However when he looked to Brian, who had always been the more even-tempered of the two, the two men shared a look that told Will all he needed to know. His proud and protective sister had overcome her prejudice and had finally _let things go_ , as he'd been asking her to do for the sake of his kids ever since the divorce had been finalized.

He was about to give his sister another hug when he heard it.

" _Daddy!"_

The shriek startled him and he spun around to look over his shoulder, instantly picking out his two little girls in the dense crowd as if they were small beacons of light.

He didn't even really have time to think before he dropped to his knees and caught them both as they ran into his chest, two pairs of tiny little arms wrapping themselves tightly around his neck.

 _That's_ what he'd needed, what he'd been waiting for.

While he'd always tried to appear as calm and collected as possible, there had always been a very small part of him that couldn't help but _wonder_. Would they be able to get the job done? And if not, would they make it home in time for him to see his family, his two daughters, one more time?

It was a fear that had been very successful in pushing him forward. No matter how tired he'd been, he kept pushing...because the more he pushed, the higher the probability that he'd have the chance to hug his kids again.

And there he was, _finally_ , with the two of them in his arms.

Placing a kiss on the temple of each girl, he pulled away just enough to look into their eyes—their bright, happy, _safe_ blue eyes. "How'd you guys get here? I thought you were with Grandma and Grandpa?"

Six year old Faith spoke first. "Mom said you needed us, so Grandpa Martin drove us."

Grandpa Martin?

As in _Martin Hale_? His ex-father-in-law and sitting Texas judge that had relished making his life miserable in the months leading up to and after the divorce?

 _That_ Grandpa Martin?

His two daughters were staring at him expectantly and as he looked into their eyes he realized quickly that he no longer cared about the past, it didn't matter anymore. They'd exited the shuttle and set foot on a new world, a world full of people that had realized all of a sudden how truly insignificant they were in the grand scheme of things.

Their species had earned a second chance and he wasn't going to squander it.

As his daughters hugged him again, he spotted Melanie standing a short distance away, her eyes meeting his as she removed her sunglasses. He knew her well enough to recognize that she also hadn't been sleeping and that she'd been crying off and on for at _least_ a couple of days.

In all the years he'd known her, she'd never once left the house without make-up on and her hair done. But as he looked at her right then, he noticed that her face was make-up free and her hair was tied up in a messy bun; the kind of bun that was only held together by some kind of unknown feminine magic.

They couldn't have been more different, and yet somehow, they'd managed to create two little humans that had more compassion, generosity, and love in their small frames than most adults did.

It was a _miracle_.

He looked at Melanie again and sent her a small nod. _Thank you._

And with tears in her eyes, she nodded back. _Welcome home._

* * *

Charlotte watched from a distance as Sharp knelt down and embraced his little girls, the two beautiful kids laughing and smiling in their father's arms. It was a sight that made her smile in spite of herself, a moment that should've been on the cover of _Times_ or _National Geographic..._

And very well _could_ be, with all the journalists and news vans around.

There was a very small and selfish part of her that wanted to walk over there and say hello, that wanted to meet his children establish some sort of firm standing in his life. And while she knew that Julia, Brian, and the others would welcome her with open arms, might even be happy to see her, she knew that it wasn't her place. Not yet, anyway.

Over the course of those couple of weeks, once it had become obvious that there was something between them—whether something genuine or merely hormones, still yet to be determined—they had both mutually agreed to put it on the back burner until their job was finished, for better or for worse. And for the most part they had been successful in that.

Maybe her sudden anxiousness was a product of her sadness.

Maybe she wanted reassurance from him that she wasn't completely alone, that she had something to look forward to—a new relationship, a new life with someone that had lived through what she had, that understood.

Or maybe she just _needed_ someone.

Someone gently touched her upper arm and she startled, turning around and coming face to face with Grace.

Charlotte felt tears welling up in her eyes at the heartbroken expression on Grace's face and she swallowed hard, feeling a familiar burning sensation in the back of her throat.

She had always referred to Harry as her father and Grace as her sister, but there was a quiet voice in the back of her head that had been reminding her for years of the fact that she was merely an _adopted_ member of the family; a stray that had been left on Harry's doorstep one rainy Tuesday morning. She'd been told by many counselors over the years that it was a normal thing for an 'adopted' child to feel, that they didn't belong or were somehow out of place in their new family's home.

But the Stampers had never made her feel that way. On the contrary, she'd been accepted with warmth and love from the very beginning.

Well, Harry's _brand_ of love, anyway; affection mixed with the occasional kick in the butt. Both had been equally effective.

Charlotte had lost a _father figure_.

Grace had lost a _father_.

"Grace…I'm so sorry." She swallowed hard again as a single tear fell, snaking its way through the dirt and sweat that was still all over her face. "I couldn't stop him, I tried—"

Grace suddenly raised a hand up and Charlotte fell silent, dropping her eyes dejectedly towards the ground.

She was waiting for something but couldn't predict what it would be.

Anger? Grief? Sadness? Blame?

Any of those emotions would've been understandable, hell, maybe even _expected_.

But to her great surprise, all Grace did was take a few steps forward and frame Charlotte's face in her hands. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Charlotte's eyes shot up in surprise and Grace shook her head, saying, "He made his choice, and there is and was nothing you could've done or said that would've changed his mind. He loved you. You're my sister and _I_ love you. Don't you dare apologize...not ever. Not for this." And without another word, Grace pulled her forcefully into an embrace that immediately reminded Charlotte of their father—a forceful, unbreakable hold full of warmth and love.

She'd always felt safe when Harry had hugged her, like there was nothing in the world that could touch her or harm her as long as she was in those arms.

Just another thing that Grace had inherited.

The relief that she felt at having Grace's forgiveness, her love, somehow made everything else bearable. Yes, they'd lost a lot. Yes, they had a long and hard journey ahead of them. But they had _each other_ to help them get through it. They had AJ, Chick, Bear, and Rockhound...and the countless new friends they'd made along the way. They had a massive international business to run. They had memorial services _and_ a wedding to plan. There was so much that needed to be done, and Charlotte was beyond grateful that she wouldn't have to do any of it alone.

"Miss Stamper?"

The two young women pulled apart at the familiar voice to find Sharp standing beside them, his hand raised in a respectful salute. "Colonel Willie Sharp. United States Air Force, ma'am." AJ placed a comforting hand on Charlotte's back as Sharp said, "Requesting permission to shake the hand of the daughter…of the bravest man I've ever met."

Charlotte watched closely as the two of them shook hands, the Colonel exuding a massive amount of respect in both his posture and his expression. Grace sensed that respect as well because she nodded, saying, "Thank you, Colonel, and thank you for bringing the rest of my family home."

"Please don't thank me, Miss Stamper—"

"Call me Grace, please."

Sharp smiled graciously. " _Grace_. Please don't thank me, it was an honor to work with your father and with your family." He motioned towards Charlotte. "I've already expressed my respect to Charlotte and I wanted to express it to you, as well."

"I appreciate that, Colonel. I know that my dad thought very highly of you."

"Well, that in itself is an honor."

AJ spoke up. "So, what happens now, Sharp? Do we just go home? Or do we have to stay?"

Will took a quick look around before shrugging lightly. "If this were any other mission, we'd already be inside and under guard...so, to be honest, I'm not sure. At some point we're going to have to meet with the doctors and be debriefed by the Air Force, maybe some sort of quarantine, but don't worry about that—" He finished quickly, seeing the panic flash across AJ's face. "Right now, focus on yourselves and on your family, take as much time as you can. When the time comes for us to head inside, _if_ that time comes, they'll let us know." AJ nodded and let out a long breath as Sharp's attention was suddenly directed towards Charlotte. "Charlotte, could I trouble you for a second?"

Charlotte nodded and Grace squeezed her hand, saying, "We'll be somewhere around here when you're done. Come find us, ok?"

The two sisters shared another hug before Charlotte moved away, falling into step behind Sharp as they maneuvered carefully through the mass of people. He led them towards a relatively empty part of the runway and let out a breath as he turned around to face her, concern flashing in his eyes as he truly _studied_ her. "Are you all right?"

She sniffled lightly and nodded, meeting his eyes. "I'm ok…just tired."

It was obvious that he understood exactly what she meant because his features softened slightly. "I don't wanna give you more to think about, but...are you feeling up to meeting a couple people?"

The hidden meaning in his words alarmed her and her eyes widened. "Really? _Today_?"

"There's no pressure-" He held up a placating hand. "You don't have to if you're not ready. I just thought…they're here and I've told them about you—"

"You did?"

"Of course I did." He smiled gently at her, squinting in the bright sunlight. "I know we haven't really talked yet, but…they're my kids, and I don't like to leave things until the last minute. _That_ and my sister asked about you, which made _them_ ask about you." He blinked owlishly for a second before saying, "Julia somehow didn't see that coming."

"I saw you with them earlier. They're beautiful."

"They take after their mother."

"No," she placed a hand on his arm. "They take after _you_."

His face lit up under his freckles and he sent her a truly stunning smile. "You don't have to meet my ex-wife, at least not yet. I figure one important meeting is enough for one day."

After a second and a few measured breaths, she said, "I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous."

" _Nervous_? Why?"

"They're your children, they're important to you." She squirmed a bit, wringing her hands. "What if they don't like me?"

"They're six and four-and-a-half. They like everybody." When it was obvious that his words weren't making her feel any better, he softened his voice. "Look, just be yourself and I _promise_ that everything will be fine. It's not like they're going into this with bias, they don't even know _how_ to do that."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She did what she could to borrow some of his confidence and wished, more than anything, that Harry was there. That _Oscar_ was there.

She knew what Oscar would say if he _were_ there. _Hike up your skirt and kick it in the ass, Charlie._

And goddammit, that's just what she was gonna do.

With a confident bounce in her step, she motioned for Sharp to lead the way, instantly following along beside him as he led her across the runway to where his family was waiting.

It made her feel better to see that, with the exception of the kids, she knew everyone that was there; Julia, Brian, and Adam...as well as Will's Uncle Gary and Aunt Kathy, the people who had welcomed her with open arms and kind smiles when she'd joined them in their home.

Speaking of Julia, she was the first of the group to spot them coming and made a beeline straight for them, her eyes wide with relief. "Charlotte!" The lovable brunette's arms were around her in a tight hug before Charlotte could even get a word out and she instantly relaxed, feeling the affection coming off of the other woman in waves. "It's so good to see you! We were so worried about you, thank god you made it home safely!"

Charlotte returned the hug just as enthusiastically. "That was your brother's doing." She made eye contact with Will over Julia's shoulder and sent him a smile. "We owe him our lives."

"And the world owes you _theirs_." The two women mutually pulled apart, Julia keeping a firm hold on Charlotte's upper arms. "Welcome home."

"Thank you, Julia, that means a lot."

Drawing everyone's attention and smiling down at the two little girls that had gravitated towards his lower legs the second they'd walked up, Will nervously cleared his throat. "I figured this was a good time for introductions. Faith. Amy. This is my friend Charlotte." His eyes locked with hers. "Charlotte, these are my children."

Calling those two girls _beautiful_ or _stunning_ would've been a serious understatement. They both had long and flowing chocolate-brown hair, startling blue eyes, and the same splash of freckles across their noses that their father had.

She could tell immediately that Will and his ex-wife would have their hands full when those two girls hit adolescence. There were certain qualities that she'd seen in the Colonel over those couple of weeks that told her he was a protective father, a man that loved his daughters more than anything in the world but rarely had the chance to show it. They'd rebel against it, much like her and Grace had, and as a result, he'd be beating the boys away with a baseball bat.

Not that that was a bad thing, however.

They both had ribbons in their hair and Charlotte couldn't help but smile as she knelt down on one knee, looking them both respectfully in the eye. "It's nice to meet you. Your dad has told me so much about you guys."

The importance of that moment wasn't lost on her as she watched the emotions flash across the girls' faces. She could tell that they were both, in their own way, sizing her up...trying to decide, right then and there, whether or not they were going to like her. It was a scrutiny she'd never felt before and she did what she could to hide how nervous she really was.

She knew based on what she'd heard, and what had been confirmed by Julia that night in Houston, that Will hadn't dated _at all_ since his marriage ended. He hadn't really been interested, instead choosing to focus on his career. She could only imagine how difficult it would be for those kids if a relationship actually did spring up between them; especially if that first introduction and the meetings afterwards weren't handled as delicately as was possible.

Winning the hearts of children was just as important, if not more so, than winning the heart of the mother or the best friend.

At least that's what Charlotte's few married friends had told her.

After a few terrifying seconds of silence, Amy bravely relinquished her hold on her dad's leg and took a few small steps forward, sticking her hand out the moment she was close enough. In a quiet but confident voice, she said, "You're pretty."

Charlotte couldn't help but smile and immediately shook the girl's hand. "Thank you very much. You're very pretty, too. I love your green ribbon."

"Green is daddy's favorite color."

"Is that why you picked it?" Amy nodded enthusiastically and Charlotte's smile grew.

And then in typical little kid fashion, she dropped the bomb.

"My daddy likes you."

Will's Aunt Kathy let out a laugh and Julia raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes dancing with amusement. Will just looked mortified.

Charlotte's face reddened immediately but Amy didn't seem to notice, an innocent little smile on her face. _Troublemaker._

"Do you like him, too?"

For the shortest second, Charlotte didn't know what to say.

She knew that she wanted to be honest; it was never a good idea to start a relationship off with a lie, _especially_ when dealing with kids. While a fib or white lie to another adult could cause problems later on down the road, an adult would be able to rationalize or accept it…a child would not.

A lie to a child was a betrayal of the worst kind and she refused to do that.

Meeting Amy's expectant eyes, she spoke slowly and was sure to choose each word with care. "I like your dad very much, Amy. He's a good man."

That was apparently the right thing to say.

Amy didn't even hesitate in walking right up to her and winding her tiny little arms around Charlotte's neck.

The little girl didn't say a word, didn't make a sound…she just hugged her little heart out, the unabashed acceptance and trust in that embrace enough to bring tears to Charlotte's eyes again.

And when Faith joined in on the hugging only a couple of seconds later, obviously trusting her little sister's opinion, Charlotte knew immediately that there was nothing in the world that could heal an aching heart more than the embrace of a child.

Or in her case… _two._

 ** _END_**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone for the reviews and the follows/favourites and my apologies for how long this has taken to update. I got hit with some writers block and then went on a trip to Italy over the holidays to visit family. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season, whatever you celebrate! All the best for 2017!

 **Disclaimer:** Just playing in the sandbox. The only thing I own are my OCs.

And as always, my apologies for any grammar or spelling errors. I read it through multiple times and edited before posting, but things always slip through.

* * *

 _El Paso, Texas_

 _August, 1997_

* * *

The fire was crackling in the grate as she moved through the quiet house, the hardwood creaking quietly under the weight of her sock feet.

The Choi ranch was a comfortable place to be, an enormous custom-built house that was full of rustic wooden cabinets and tables that Oscar had crafted himself…plush armchairs and leather couches with hilariously mismatched pillows…and a beautiful stone fireplace in almost every room.

There were cowboy hats on every wall-hook and boots on every mat.

The large barn and stable at the back of the house were home to beautiful stallions and mares that, when the weather was nice, ran freely across the property and grazed in nearby fields.

It was like a scene from a movie, and whenever Charlotte was able to spend time there, she always was the better for it.

She'd arrived in El Paso only half an hour before and in usual Oscar fashion he'd wasted no time in welcoming her to _humble little abode,_ as he always put it. He'd given her a great big hug inside the front door and then, like any good host, had helped her carry her bag up the long winding staircase to the second floor.

Charlotte stayed in the same bedroom every time she visited—the second largest bedroom at the end of the hall—but nine times out of ten she always ended up falling asleep on the couch, her and Oscar staying up all night watching re-runs of their favourite old TV shows.

The Dick Van Dyke Show.

Abbott and Costello.

The Andy Griffith Show.

And Charlotte's absolute favourite, _Bewitched_ —which Oscar always grumbled about but deep down loved even more than she did.

Pulling her sweater jacket tighter around herself in an effort to ward off the chill in the air, Charlotte stepped down off the final step of the staircase and made her way into the kitchen, where she immediately spotted Oscar standing at the counter. He was stirring the contents of two large mugs and must've sensed her watching him because he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Wonderin' where you got to." He nodded down at the mugs. "Whipped cream or marshmallows?"

"Does it make me a pig to say both?"

"No, it makes you _smart_." Crossing the floor to the fridge, Oscar glanced back at her as he retrieved the whipped cream. "So are you gonna tell me about him?"

"About who?"

" _About who_ , she asks. The new boyfriend. _Mister_ _Muscles_. He's a paramedic, right?"

"No, he's a fireman"

Oscar laughed as he slid the mug of hot chocolate towards her, muttering an amused sounding, "My mistake," as he leaned down and rested his arms on the surface of the counter. "How come you didn't bring him to the crew barbecue last weekend? Good opportunity to introduce him to everyone, don't you think? No pressure, good food, lots of witnesses."

She took a careful sip of her hot chocolate. "I thought about it but you know what Harry is like. It would probably be better to let him meet Shep on his own first—"

" _Shep?_ His name is _Shep?"_

"—might go over better, you know?"

"Elvis had a dog named _Shep_."

Trying desperately not to smile and failing miserably, Charlotte shook her head at him. "See? It's stuff like _that_ that keeps the new _dude_ - _friends_ away from crew events."

She crossed the room and folded her leg underneath herself as she sat down on the leather couch beside the fireplace. Oscar was laughing as he threw himself down in the armchair beside her, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Come on now, Charlie. You know I'm only teasing." He smiled at her. "As long as you're happy, my girl, that's all we care about."

"Thanks, Oz, but you know that you're the only one that makes me happy these days."

At her words his face softened, the teasing sparkle in his eyes fading, and when he spoke again, she could hear that his voice had softened as well. "Shep doesn't make you happy?"

"He tries." She shrugged a shoulder. "But to be honest, I'm not really making it easy for him."

The fact that she was romantically-challenged wasn't a secret. Her numerous failed relationships were often a source endless entertainment whenever someone on their crew was bored enough to bring it up. It wasn't that she was hard to please or difficult to get along with; on the contrary, she was as laid back as they come. She just had a habit of getting involved with men that were either too clingy or too independent. She needed someone right _smack_ _dab_ in the middle.

Was 'Shep the fireman' that man? She'd known right away that he wasn't. So why had she gotten involved with him in the first place?

Bear said it was because he was a good cook. _'That's all firefighters do, right? Cook and sleep?'_

AJ said it was due to his… _prowess_ in the bedroom _. 'He's probably like one of those kiddie rides at the supermarket; you put a quarter in him and he just goes.'_

Charlotte, for her part, didn't really know. Maybe she was with him just for the sake of being with someone? Maybe she liked the _idea_ of him as opposed to the reality?

Oscar hesitated for a moment before letting out a measured breath and moving to sit forward in his chair.

Deep conversations were a common thing between the two of them when Charlotte visited the ranch; they gave each other advice, listened to problems, and ranted and raved about their co-workers or family whenever it was needed. Oscar's house was a safe place where they knew that they could speak freely and sometimes that was all a person needed.

After a second, he said, "I don't think you really believe that. You've got so much love in you…just gotta find the right person." He nudged her knee affectionately. "There's no rush, y'know. You got plenty of time."

She knew that she would never be able to convey to him how much his words meant so she settled for a big smile; he seemed to understand her silent message because he bashfully shrugged his shoulders and looked down towards the floor. After a moment, she asked, "And what about you?"

"What about me, what?"

"She's a veterinarian, right? Helps you with the horses?"

He groaned. "How'd you find out about _that_?"

"Completely by accident." Oscar made a face at her and she couldn't help but chuckle, watching as his face got redder and redder by the second. "I took Pie out for a ride the last time I was here and met her when I brought him back to the barn. She was sweet…kinda had a _Daisy Duke_ vibe about her—"

"Oh, don't say that, _please_ —"

"Big floppy hat, blonde pig-tails, denim shorts."

He let out a long breath and leaned back, resting his arms on the arms of his chair. "Well…you said it best— _you're the only one that makes me happy these days_."

"But she's so cute! What's her name again?"

"Denise."

"Denise!" Charlotte held her arms up in the air, as if to say _come on_. " _Denise._ The veterinarian from El Paso who makes her living helping baby colts learn to walk. I mean, really, how _Disney_ princess is that?"

"You're dating a muscled fireman named _Shep_ , ok? Let's not compare stereotypes."

The two of them shared a hearty laugh before falling into companionable silence.

The popping and whizzing of the fire in the otherwise quiet house, coupled with the comfortable couch and the sweet hot chocolate, brought a wave of relaxation crashing down over them. She could hear the wind-chimes tinkling cheerfully on the front porch and the distant sounds of horses whinnying in the back field…the sound of wind echoing in the home's high rafters…the rhythmic way that Oscar was drumming his hands on the leather arms of his chair.

She didn't even realize it when her eyes slipped shut.

The next thing she was vaguely aware of was Oscar taking the mug from her hands before gently lifting her into his arms, the comforting smells in his shirt—freshly cut grass and well-oiled leather—lulling her even further into sleep as he carried her up the stairs.

* * *

 _Houston, Texas_

 _Johnson Space Center_

* * *

The sudden camera flash made white spots appear behind Charlotte's eyes and she tried desperately to blink them away.

The press room at the Johnson Space Center was nearly bursting at the seams with the world press and from her place at the table—seated somewhat securely between Chick and AJ—she tried hard to ignore the roiling sensation in her stomach.

They'd been given less than an hour with their families and friends out on the tarmac before armed Air Force guards had gathered them all up and escorted them to a nearby bus, military rifles slung over their shoulders and stern expressions on their faces. Despite the definite air of celebration that had surrounded them after landing, the ride back to the base was heavy, sad, and silent.

She'd made it. She'd survived.

AJ. Bear. Rockhound. Chick. Watts. Sharp.

But Oscar hadn't. Noonan hadn't. Max hadn't. _Harry_ hadn't.

Even though she was relieved that all was said and done, she wasn't going to feel like celebrating for a very long time.

She saw Truman and Sharp exchanging a few quiet words before the former bravely stepped up to the podium—the latter taking his seat at Truman's right—and the entire room erupted. Reporters sprang from their chairs, waving their recorders in the air, and for the shortest instant, Charlotte didn't know whether or not the Executive Director was going to get control.

However, with the air of a man who had been cornered at that microphone a thousand times, he raised his hands in the air and spoke loudly over the chaos. "Ladies and gentlemen, please, take your seats so we can get started. Time is short and we have a lot to get through, so let's try and keep this as organized as possible, shall we?"

And to her great surprise, much like a kindergarten class that had been called to attention, the press core slowly took their seats, each person watching Truman expectantly as he waited for complete silence.

After a few seconds, he cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gathering here on such short notice. We know that many of you have travelled a great distance to be here and we appreciate your efforts in sharing this truly… _inspiring_ story with the world." He looked thoughtfully around the room before saying, "Looking around this room and seeing the diverse press core that we have here today, I'm reminded just how far reaching this ordeal has been—the United States, France, Japan, Canada. Every country _in_ _the_ _world_ has been affected by what has gone on here the last few days, and if you'll indulge me, I'm going to take a few moments to explain in detail our process—"

"Mr. Truman!" A female reporter popped up from her chair, a French lilt in her voice. "My sources tell me that President Sheppard ordered a surface detonation but that Mission Commander Sharp disobeyed that order. Can you confirm?"

Charlotte could feel the tension in the Colonel from halfway down the table, and when she turned her head to look at him, she immediately saw the hard set of his jaw.

Sharp's eyes were set on Truman and she could tell that he was just _aching_ to stand up and shoot back, to explain himself; but Truman didn't seem to notice, instead shaking his head and raising a hand. "Elise, I appreciate that you have questions, but that's not where we're starting, ok?"

" _Will_ you address it?"

"If the Colonel wants to speak to it, we will of course give him that opportunity." The reporter went to sit down but Truman called out to her and she froze on the spot. "But let's not lose sight of why we're here. Mission Commander Sharp, as well as the rest of our team, just pulled off an amazing feat. We all owe them our lives and that is not an exaggeration. He doesn't need to explain himself to _anyone_ …especially anyone in this room."

With an expression on her face that was both surprised and insulted, she took her seat again.

Truman let out a long breath and rested his arms tiredly on the podium. He seemed to recognise the harsh turn the press conference had taken and Charlotte could almost see his defensive hackles lowering. He'd come to the defence of his lone-surviving Colonel and his atypical mother-bear protectiveness made her feel a kind of security that she hadn't felt in that room before that moment.

"There's something that I'd like you all to understand—" Truman's eyes scanned the room as he spoke, his face serious. "The conditions that this group of astronauts dealt with, what they encountered on that asteroid…none of us here will ever experience or understand. They are more than just a _team_ of _civilians_ that we gathered up and threw into a shuttle. They are a family, in every sense of the word. The initial mission report and press-packets that you all received the day before yesterday made note of the crew members that didn't make it home. They gave their lives for this mission. Decisions were made and I know that our team members, our entire organisation, stand by those decisions." He let out a thoughtful breath. "We send astronauts, pilots, _commanders_ into space because human beings have a moral barometer that unmanned vehicles, that _machines_ , don't have. We rely on them to look at the bigger picture, to look at a situation and make the choices that we would never want to make ourselves." He motioned towards Sharp and said, "Commander Sharp is one of the most experienced officers that we have at NASA. His record is beyond reproach and his abilities are second to none. I trust him completely and I know that President Sheppard does as well."

There was a definite hush that had fallen over the room as Truman spoke and Charlotte found herself almost mesmerised at his words, at the unabashed sincerity in his voice.

Here was a man that had suffered right along with them, from the moment they'd been recruited until that very moment in the press room. He'd stayed up with them, cried with them, screamed with them, _mourned_ with them. As far as Charlotte was concerned, he was the one person at NASA that they'd really trusted, that had had their best interests at heart, in spite of the obvious political pressures.

He'd defended and protected them as best he could and that was reason enough for Charlotte to adore him.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Truman and Flight Director Clark took turns at the podium speaking about the mission and taking the occasional question. Charlotte simply sat there in silence wringing her hands, counting down the minutes until it was over. She hated being in that room and on display for the press, for the countless cameras and the billions of people that were most likely watching. She understood the need for it but that didn't take away from the fact that she'd rather be anywhere else.

They had memorial services to plan and a wedding to organise. She wanted to move forward, honor her family, and put the entire ordeal behind her.

She took the opportunity to look around the room at the sea of faces. The reporters obviously wanted to hear from the crew, wanted to get their firsthand accounts of what had happened in space, but Truman had guaranteed them that they wouldn't have to speak. _"You guys have done enough,"_ he'd said. " _We'll take the questions."_

Charlotte's eyes settled on a particular group of reporters and her heart leapt suddenly up into her throat.

Standing there amongst the press, nearly hidden behind a camera tripod, was her mother.

It had been _years_ since Charlotte had last seen the woman but she knew deep down in her gut that it was her. The long honey-colored hair and green eyes that she'd inherited…the familiar scar above her right eyebrow from when she fell while trying to teach her daughter how to rollerblade…and the most recognizable, the silver chain around her neck that Charlotte remembered playing with when she was little.

Everything around her seemed to grind down to a halt, as if she'd been submerged head-first in water. She was no longer paying attention to what the reporters were asking or how Truman was responding…she couldn't focus, couldn't look at anything else but the woman standing at the back of the room. When the two of them locked eyes for the first time in over a decade, Charlotte had to make a conscious effort to keep herself from erupting from her chair and either shouting or storming out. The last thing she needed to do, or _wanted_ to do, was to give the press even more drama to report on than what they already had.

Her emotions were coursing through her veins like scalding hot water and it must've been obvious to those that were sitting near her because Chick, who had barely moved a muscle since they'd sat down, discreetly slid his right hand across the surface of the table, his fingers wrapping themselves around her forearm.

She knew without looking at him that he'd spotted her mother in the crowd as well and it was obvious from his body language that he was channeling all of the disgust for her that Harry had expressed over the years.

Harry was a quiet man, steely-eyed and serious most days; however, those that knew him best knew that that wasn't always the case. When it came to the people he loved, his family and friends, there was a fire in him that burned with more ferocity than most were capable of expressing. On the flip side of that fiery passion was _hatred_ , a genuine blinding hatred directed at anyone that hurt someone he cared for or threatened what he'd worked so hard to build.

Her mother, quote-unquote, embodied both of those things.

And as if she hadn't wished for it enough since returning home, she wished, more than anything, that Harry was there beside her. Her was her net, her safety blanket…he would look out for her when she either forgot to or couldn't look out for herself.

She desperately wanted her father back.

She realised once again that she hadn't been paying attention to what had been happening around her and she forced herself to focus on Truman's voice, pulling her eyes from her mother.

"—couple of weeks. Obviously, rebuilding the structural damage in France and China is among our top priorities going forward, and from what I understand, our government has pledged to assist however we can. It would be prudent to direct questions regarding our international involvement to the White House press secretary, she'll have more information for you than I do."

A reporter with a Canadian flag pin on his jacket held up his hand politely and Truman acknowledged him with a nod. "So what can the people expect from NASA and the Air Force over the next couple of days?"

"The next few days for us are going to be strictly internal. Now that we have our quarantine and associated medical exams completed, we'll be taking the time to get our crew debriefed."

"And what will that involve?"

"Everything from extended medical treatment to counseling, if our doctors deem it necessary. It's a large part of NASA's programming to help astronauts assimilate back into society in a way that is healthy and productive following extended space travel. Given what this particular crew has been through, that's even more important now. We'll work closely with them and their families to make sure that once they leave the base they have everything they need."

"Will there be a funeral service for Colonel Davis and Pilot Tucker?"

Truman hesitated slightly before placing a hand over his microphone and leaning down towards Sharp, whispering something quickly in his ear. The Colonel nodded and slowly stood from his chair to the sound of shutter clicks and bright camera flashes.

Charlotte took comfort in his calm face and his steady hands as he cleared his throat, his smooth voice echoing throughout the room. "Mr. Truman thought it best that I speak to this. Colonel Davis and myself have known each other for a very long time, and due to that, I've been in direct contact with his family. His wife and son are obviously devastated at his loss and have requested time to grieve. Once they're ready, NASA and the Air Force will work with them to organize a memorial that best suits his memory. From what I understand, the same offer has been extended to Pilot Tucker's wife and parents."

The French reporter from before—Elise, if Charlotte remembered correctly—stood up and waved her hand, not waiting for acknowledgement before asking, "Colonel, are you willing to speak about the order the President gave, or—"

"For the record, yes. President Sheppard gave an order for a surface detonation. And yes, I disobeyed it." Almost every reporter stood from their chair and Charlotte watched as Truman quickly moved to Sharp's side, the two men speaking quietly again. Whatever Truman said it was obvious that Sharp wasn't having it—he shook his head and turned back towards the babbling crowd. "As Mr. Truman said earlier, we make decisions and we stand by them. I made my decision as Mission Commander and I stand by it. I think the President understands that. However, on a personal note, I have to say that I find this particular line of questioning irrelevant at this point. We were given a job and we succeeded. People gave their lives and because of their sacrifices humanity lives to see another day. Does anything else really matter?"

Truman placed a comforting hand on Sharp's shoulder and leaned towards the microphone, saying, "And that'll be all for now. Thank you for coming."

And with that they all stood from their chairs, Charlotte's eyes flashing back towards her mother as they filed out of the noisy room.

The second they stepped out into the main hallway, she heard it.

"Charlotte!"

Her mother's voice.

"Charlotte, please!"

With a tingling feeling shooting up and down her spine she came to a slow stop and turned around, her eyes falling on the woman herself as she fought against an armed guard that was keeping the press and the public back behind the barricades.

Her mind and stomach were still roiling uncomfortably when a familiar hand came down on her shoulder, making her jump. Her panic-stricken green eyes connected with Grace's loving blue ones and it instantly brought on a calmness that Charlotte was very thankful for. She let out a breath, sending her sister a somewhat nervous smile. "I can't believe she's here."

"I saw her in the crowd."

"What in the hell is she doing here? What makes her think I want her here? Today of all days."

"She's here because I called her."

The smile immediately faded from Charlotte's face, the feeling of calm being pushed out by an overwhelming feeling of _betrayal_. The entire crew, as well as guards and reporters, had their eyes on the two of them and she made sure to speak quietly, wanting to keep private matters private. " _You_ called her? Why?" Grace opened her mouth to speak but Charlotte spoke over her. "Why would you do that? You know how I feel."

"I did it because I thought that it was the right thing to do." Grabbing hold of Charlotte's arm, Grace pulled her to the side of the hallway, as far away from the reporters as they could get. Her tone was unapologetic as she said, "You'd been hurt, we'd lost Oscar and Noonan—I just figured that with everything that was happening…maybe it would be the nudge that you needed to patch things up."

"I don't want to _patch things up_ , Grace. You _know_ how this feels, your mom left you and Harry when you were _how_ old? You've been through it."

"You're right, I have."

"So why?"

"Because while you were up there? I was down here. We lost so many people, Charlie. And sometimes? We have to be reminded of what's most important in life." She nodded her head towards Theresa, who was still arguing with the guard. "She's here. She came. Isn't it worth talking about at least?"

Charlotte pulled her eyes from Grace's and glanced down the hallway, her gaze falling briefly on her mother before it shifted over to Sharp who was standing a short distance away with Truman and Flight Director Clark.

It was obvious that there was a conversation taking place amongst the three of them that Will was supposed to be participating in, but his attention was focused on her instead. There was a question in his eyes— _are you all right_?—and she waved a hand at him, trying to reassure him from a distance.

She had enough to worry about at that moment, she didn't think she could stand having to introduce Sharp to her very _estranged_ mother.

Grace nudged her arm gently and sent her a smile. "Go talk to her and see what happens. If you decide that taking it further isn't what you want? Then at least you'll know."

Charlotte stood there for a second, moving nervously from foot to foot.

Her gut was telling her to walk away, to let sleeping dogs lie. Theresa had left. She'd made that choice, and not once over the following ten years did she make any kind of effort to reconnect. And it's not like Charlotte could've even if she'd wanted to—she didn't know where her mother was, it was like she'd fallen off the face of the earth. Her heart, on the other hand, was telling her to give it a chance. She didn't know what the future was going to bring; she didn't know what was going to happen over the next few weeks, months, or years. There might come a time where she was thankful to have her mother around. With both of her fathers gone, who else did she have left?

With a quick mental shake to clear her head, she took a few measured steps across the floor. There were several sets of eyes on her, some familiar and some not, and she tried to keep her own eyes forward.

Theresa was still arguing with the armed guard and the moment Charlotte was close enough she tapped the young man on the shoulder, saying, "It's all right, you can let her through."

"Mr. Truman said no one gets through without a badge."

"It's all right, she's…my mother."

The guard simply nodded his head and moved aside, leaving the two women standing face-to-face for the first time in over ten years.

Despite how angry she was, there was a very small part of her buried deep down in the pit of her stomach that just wanted to _hug her mother_ ; that just wanted to fall into the arms that she'd been longing for since the day her mother had left. But it had been a heartbroken teenage girl that had longed for those arms, _not_ the livid twenty-six year old woman that was standing there now.

If a long-term relationship was the ultimate goal, than Theresa had her work cut out for her.

Swallowing hard, Charlotte asked, "Where the hell have you been?"

"Waiting."

The familiar sound of Theresa's voice set Charlotte's teeth on edge slightly and she swallowed hard. "Waiting for _what_?"

"For _this_." With a watery smile on her face, Theresa hesitantly reached a hand out and ran her fingers over the embroidered name tag on Charlotte's flight suit. Even though there were multiple layers of clothes between Theresa's hand and the skin of Charlotte's sternum, the younger woman was sure she could feel her skin burning. The contact felt strange, _forced_ , and she had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from shaking her mother's hand off of her. "I saw you on television. What you did...it was amazing. I know that your father would've been very proud of you."

"Yeah, well, it's too bad he died before my big debut."

If Charlotte weren't so furious she probably would've been appalled at how harsh her own voice sounded and how horrible her words were, but the fact that she'd grown into a strong Stamper woman since the last time the two of them had spoken made it _much_ easier. She felt no guilt or shame for what she was saying or how she was saying it. Theresa had given up the right to inspire those feelings in her years ago and since that time, Charlotte had become far more _selective_ of who she shared that part of herself with.

It was obvious that her words and her admittedly callous tone had cut her mother deep based on Theresa's physical reaction; her eyes dimmed and the small smile that had been there fell slightly as she moved awkwardly from foot to foot. After a second, she said, "I've been meaning to get in touch with you, I just…I didn't know what to say."

Reaching into her purse and pulling out her wallet, Theresa flipped it open and held it out for Charlotte to see. With a pang of sadness, she recognised the faded old photo almost immediately; it was the same picture that her father—Andrew—used to keep on the desk in his office. A photo of a six year old Charlotte sitting on the carpet in their living room, her long hair in a loose ponytail as she cheerfully played with crayons. "I look at this picture every day, it's my favourite one of you."

The familiar image did nothing but remind her that her father had died without knowing where his wife was or why she'd left.

Andrew Scofield had been a tough man, emotionally and physically, after years spent in the military. He'd travelled the world and trained with the best of them—having even spent some time in the boxing ring in his younger days—but none of that had prepared him for the fight he'd face later in life. Abandoned by his wife, separated from everything and everyone he knew after being discharged from the service, and a truly brutal cancer diagnosis had brought one of the strongest men Charlotte had ever known to his knees. He'd died a shell of what he once was, and while she logically knew that his physical illness wasn't Theresa's fault, everything else that her father had gone through certainly was.

"That's like loving a puppy, that's easy." Charlotte quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not that kid anymore, I grew up."

"Charlotte, I know that I hurt you and your father…and I know that I have no right to be here. But when Grace called…I thought, I _hoped_ , that maybe we'd be able to start over? Maybe get to know one another again?" She reached back into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper, tentatively holding it out. "I'm staying in Houston. If you want to get together and talk—"

Charlotte opened her mouth to say ' _thanks but no thanks_ ' but snapped her mouth shut when Chick appeared beside her, his hand resting protectively on her lower back. "Charlie? Sorry to interrupt but Truman's sayin' we gotta go." He looked over and tossed a quiet "Nice to see you, Theresa," at Charlotte's mother as an afterthought.

Theresa, for her part, let out a breath. It was obvious that she was trying hard to smile. "Hi Chick."

"Wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Well, you know me, I'm full of surprises."

"Yeah, ain't _that_ the truth." The two of them stared at each other like a couple of gunslingers before he redirected his eyes back to Charlotte, giving the younger woman a nod of encouragement. "Come on, kid, we got a busy afternoon ahead of us."

And without another word, Charlotte slipped the folded piece of paper into the back pocket of her flight suit and let Chick lead her away, the two of them joining up silently with the others as they were escorted back out to the bus.

 _END_


End file.
